


The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

by Alkeni



Series: Iron Coin Chronicles [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 154,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkeni/pseuds/Alkeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sequel to "The Iron Coin of the Jester". Xander has the Iron Coin, and with it, he can stop Fate's plans for his friends. But is change always good? Set during BtVS Season 3. Xander-Centric with a Xander/Cordelia pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trailer: An Agent of Chaos

**Disclaimer:** No, it's not mine. Anything to do with BtVS belongs to Joss et al., I'm just playing around with his toys.

And a thank you to Starway Man, my beta. Any mistakes are mine.

 **Author Notes 1:** This story can be read alone, but to truly understand the background you should read my earlier one-shot fic, “The Iron Coin of the Jester”. That way you can properly understand the Iron Coin, how Xander got it, and what exactly it does.

 **Author Notes 2:** Since each chapter will be termed an 'Episode', the prologue is being termed a 'Trailer'

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Trailer: An Agent of Chaos

There are some things which the human mind simply cannot comprehend.

After all; humans think in rather simple terms, in the grand scheme of things. Apart from a few physicists and mathematicians, whose thought processes are a tiny bit more advanced than that of the rest of the herd, human beings live in a world containing just three dimensions – and how boring is _that?_ They live in a world where causes create effects, and effects have causes. A world where a circle has only 360 degrees, and there are some angles that just can't exist. A world where the arrow of time points in only one direction. A world where, not all that long ago, the Earth had been considered a flat plane supported by an infinite tower of tortoises.

In summary, then, humans just don't have the mental capacity to process things on a level that would truly serve them well. 

The best description any human could come up with, upon seeing the section of twenty-three dimensional super-space which the sideways being known as 'The Jester' spent most of its...well, 'time' was the wrong word, but it was the closest for a human mind to grasp the concept...was as if they were seeing the gaming floor of a casino. Card tables, craps tables, slot machines, roulette wheels, and more. Imagine the Tropicana Resort & Casino located on the Las Vegas strip in all its glory, but add in at least three extra dimensions, and you'd start to get an idea of what sort of environment we're talking about.

The Jester stood at one of the tables, dealing out blackjack hands as if playing with several other people. The Jester seemed to be wearing formal clothes – a black suit, black dress pants, a white dress shirt, a solid blue tie. Tan skin, black hair. Solid blue, pupilless eyes, like blue tunnels staring out of his skull; or better yet, like the Fremen out of that novel-slash-movie called _Dune_. One of The Jester's more hilarious pranks, to be sure.

Suddenly, The Jester straightened up, as if hearing something. Not that 'hearing' was really the right word either. Nor did 'straightened' and 'up' really apply either, within twenty-three dimensional super-space. But since it was the closest approximation a human mind can understand, it will be so described.

“Can't I have some privacy without the forces of Fate intruding on me?” The Jester demanded, staring at its companion in annoyance. A human looking at this scene would describe the new arrival as having appeared from seemingly nowhere, and: male, middle- to advanced-age, wearing long, flowing black robes. Hair gray and long and an even longer beard, just as gray. Clasped to his chest was a heavy book, the cover made of what seemed like iron, the pages made of what seemed like gold. When this being deigned to appear before humans, it was often known as the Librarian of Fate.

“Have you no sense of decency!?” The Librarian demanded. “Is there no line you and your brethren among Chaos will not cross to wreak havoc?”

“Oh, come now!” The Jester protested. “What is it that's gotten you into such a fit this time? It is our job to screw around with your plans, you know.”

“Yes, but this time you have gone _too far_!” The Librarian insisted. “There are _rules_ about this sort of thing!”

“Remember to whom you are speaking. There are no rules; seriously, you sound just like a human!” The Jester replied, chortling. “There are only whims. My whims. Your whims. The whims of the Forces of Fate. The whims of the Forces of Chaos. I do what my whims dictate.”

“You gave your Iron Coin to Alexander Harris!” The Librarian said, appalled. “Do you even realize the damage which he will now cause!?”

“Well, of course I do.” The Jester said with a smile. “I've seen the plans you and yours have for him and his friends. And just so you know; if I was him, and had only the limited capacity for understanding that humans do, I'd be _pissed_. I think we both know that if Harris were to find out your plans, he'd want to kill every single one of you." 

"What the mortal wants is irrelevant. All that matters is that you take back the Iron Coin, at once!" The Librarian commanded.

"No. Because now, Harris has the ability to find out what you're planning. And of course...the motivation to do something about it. And maybe, one day, cause chaos the likes of which me and mine can only dream.” The Jester appeared to smirk. “Have fun trying to contain all the damage he'll do to your plans.” And then The Jester vanished, the gaming room vanishing with him; leaving The Librarian fuming in a featureless void.

Such is the nature of twenty-three dimensional super-space.

 **Author's Note 3:** And with this, the Iron Coin Chronicles truly begin. Coming soon, Episode 1: Sometimes You Can't Go Back, and Episode 2: And Sometimes You Can.


	2. Episode 1: Sometimes You Can't Go Back...

**Disclaimer:** NOT MINE

Thanks to my beta, Starway Man

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 1: Sometimes You Can't Go Back...

**July 11th, 1998  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

When Xander woke, his first thought was: _Not my usual nightmare..._

He was a male teenager who often had nightmares, after all. Not always: at seventeen years old, he had his fair share of sex dreams as well, thanks to all the hormones his developing body produced. But over the past two years, the bad dreams had definitely outnumbered the good. Ever since he'd found out the truth about the world – that vampires and demons were real, and that his town was built upon the Mouth of Hell – and he'd had to stake his best friend...

Xander Harris didn't always have nightmares about the things he'd seen, read about, heard about, or could just plain imagine. But they were often enough.

But last night...that had to be the weirdest dream...well, no, not the weirdest, he considered. But definitely strange. That guy, the coin, and all that stuff about Fate, and Chaos... _Where does my subconscious come up with this stuff? Maybe Cordy was right, and I **do** read too many comic books!_

It was then that Xander noticed that his right hand was clenched into a fist...and that it was clenched around something. Something he was holding in his hand. He sat up in bed and opened his hand. There was a coin in there. A familiar-looking one, at that.

Slowly, his hand shaking slightly, Xander raised his hand and looked at the coin closely, his other hand reaching down to pinch himself on the leg. It hurt. Oww! Yeah, okay, definitely not dreaming. He examined the coin more closely. It was definitely made of iron...

And it looked exactly like the coin that was given to him in the dream. Given to him by that guy...thing...The Jester, he'd called himself.

_So...it wasn't a dream. Oh, **holy crap!!**_

Xander yelped as he thought that. If the coin was real...and if the Jester had given him this coin...then presumably, everything else the man...person...thing...whatever had told him, was also true. Or at least, the Jester had actually told him those things. He might not have been telling the truth, though. Or at least, not the _whole_ truth. After the past two years, Harris had developed a healthy understanding about powerful super-beings having their own agenda, which might or might not coincide with the best interests of humanity.

But...the coin did have the power to tell him what Fate had planned for people...to let him know what was coming. In the dream...no, damn it, late last night...he'd flipped the coin, saying Buffy's name...and the images had immediately appeared in his head. And then...what? Had he simply fallen asleep? No...no, Xander remembered how excited he'd been, wanting to rush off straightaway to find his hero, to drag the Slayer back to Sunnydale kicking and screaming if he had to, but then... 

What had happened? He didn't remember. To the young man's consternation, there was just a big blank in his memory between receiving the vision conferred by the Iron Coin and waking up just now. Xander didn't understand, but figured all that could wait until later. Right now, there was the vision the Iron Coin had granted him to think about.

The vision had contained unclear, disjointed images, all of them jumbled together with no rhyme or reason, or so it had seemed. A diner, with Buffy waitressing there. The Los Angeles skyline – not that Xander understood how he knew that it was the City of Angels skyline he was seeing, given he had never set foot in that city....a pool of liquid which looked like black tar of some sort...teenagers roughly his own age, some older, some younger, being shoved into the churning black filth by some guy...that same guy, taking off his face like it was a mask, revealing a demonic face beneath...Buffy, standing before another demon, smiling and saying, “I'm Buffy. The Vampire Slayer. And you are...?” 

Unclear and disjointed images, as said. And even though the images hadn't showed it, Xander somehow knew the name and address of the diner where Buffy was working. It was known as Helen's Kitchen.

Which meant...it was time to go and bring Buffy home to Sunnydale.

Xander's first thought, his initial plan was that he would get dressed, run over to Willow's house, wake her up and tell her the good news. Then he'd call Oz's house, and tell him too. Then do the same for Giles...then they'd tell Buffy's mom. He'd call Cordy and tell her as well. And then, they'd all go to Los Angeles and bring Buffy back home where she belonged. 

Except...it just wasn't that simple, was it? Plus....

Part of Xander was still sore, a little, about everything that had happened since Angel had lost his soul, and even more so about Buffy abandoning them all and running away like that. Granted, Xander knew how there was a chance that Angel's soul had been restored at the last moment, since Willow had cast that soul curse and afterwards she'd been certain that it had worked. Xander hadn't said anything then, (a) not to hurt Willow's feelings in case she was wrong and (b) he didn't want to answer questions on whether he'd told Buffy the truth about what Willow had been planning to do.

The cold, harsh truth was that he'd lied to Buffy, for a number of reasons. One, because he'd believed the odds were that Willow would fail to pull off the spell, being straight out of coma and all. And two, Xander had known that if he told her the truth that morning, Buffy would have tried to stall and wait for the curse to take effect...she would have fought less than her absolute best, and probably gotten killed by Angelus or his minions. And with the fate of the entire world at stake, Xander Harris had ****_no intention_ of letting the Slayer risk six billion lives just to get her damned boyfriend back.

The events of the summer so far had given him some hindsight, though. When he found out that Joyce had told Buffy that if she left, she shouldn't bother coming back...

Whilst he'd been waiting for his broken arm to heal, Xander had done a lot of thinking. He'd acknowledged to himself that he'd moved past his previous feelings for Buffy, mostly, in a 'more-than-friends' sense anyway...because being used as a stripper pole was one thing. Being used as a stripper pole to make an undead guy jealous? Xander didn't have a lot of self-respect, but there was a line for such things, and Buffy had definitely crossed it that night. And...he had Cordelia now. She was... 

Harris smiled a little, as he thought of the sharp-tongued Queen of Sunnydale High. It was strange, when you thought about it...but nowadays, Xander liked her. A lot. Well, certain parts of her anyway. The parts that regularly featured in his sex dreams, for example. 

Xander quickly got his thoughts back on track before he spent the next half-hour thinking about his girlfriend, and drooling like an idiot.

He was halfway through getting dressed when he realized that there was a major flaw in his little plan. He remembered another thing that the Jester had told him. He couldn't tell anyone. What was it that he'd said? Oh yea...

_Secondly, you won't be able to tell anyone – and I mean anyone – about the coin, or what it's shown you. Words, sign language, writing it down, signal flags – whatever the hell you try. It won't work. If you could just tell people it would be way too easy._

Well shit.

Xander decided, though, that he wanted to test that. First he finished dressing, then he looked around his room for some paper and a pen, and found both quickly enough. He started to write what was intended to be a letter for Giles. He touched pen to paper...and the pen half-exploded in his hand, covering it and the paper in liquid ink.

“Okay...” Xander said softly. "I get the message." He was about to get up to wash his hand, but the ink started to move, slowly...forming letters on the page. Not that odd, in and of itself, for the Hellmouth...but still. Xander watched, part of him telling him to just throw the Iron Coin as far away as he could, as the liquid formed into words on the paper. 

_The Jester says 'nice try'. And next time, it won't be just your hand that gets covered in ink.  
-The Hydra_

Xander blinked, then read it again. _Alright then, I guess that Jester guy **was** telling the truth. Damn!_ The youth made a mental note to look into this 'Hydra' as well. Since he'd already resolved to try and research the Jester, and the whole Fate v.s. Chaos issue that he'd talked about. If he was going to mess around with Fate, then he wanted to know everything he could about his opponent.

And, damn it all, he couldn't just ask Giles for help researching the thing. Okay, he **_could_** , but the G-man would ask why he was looking into the matter, and if he knew Giles at all the British man wouldn't accept "Just because" as an answer. And from the looks of his little experiment just now, he wouldn't be able to tell the Watcher the truth. That left researching it himself, which would be...difficult. 

Oh, sure, Xander knew he wasn't an idiot, but he simply wasn't Willow- or Giles-level smart when it came to the book stuff. Helping with research over the last two years had allowed some things to stick, and some things to sink in, but still; Xander knew he wasn't going to have an easy time of it researching all by his lonesome. He could  only read English, after all, plus a few bits and pieces of Spanish; given he had taken the mandatory class for two years before ditching it as fast as he could. 

And unfortunately, all the really good stuff was in Latin, or even worse, Sumerian or Egyptian. Yeesh, those two were written in runes and hieroglyphs, not individual letters he could try to translate with a dictionary of some sort. And forget about trying to translate any weirdo demon languages, some of which didn't even look like anything which a human mind could recognize as writing. 

Xander sighed and went into the bathroom to wash his hands, still thinking. He needed to research the Jester _and sweet mamalooshin, did that guy **have** to style himself as a clown of some sort?_ , plus find out more information about this so-called Hydra guy. And it would take too damned long, if he had to do it on his own. Especially since his time was not unlimited, what with patrol and everything else.

Well, maybe he could start off by learning another language. Probably Latin. There, at least, he could probably get some help from Giles. Pointers at least. He could easily explain wanting to learn Latin as a desire to be able to help out more with the research, be more useful in the grand scheme of things. Something which was true regardless of the Jester situation, actually.

Nonetheless, Xander knew he couldn't put off getting to Buffy and using the Iron Coin to help his friends until he'd figured everything out. The Jester had mentioned three points in time where he'd messed up Fate's plans. Reviving Buffy. Helping her with the Judge by getting that rocket launcher. Lying to her about what Willow had said...

Yeah, no doubt about it; Buffy had been destined to die. Twice, possibly three times, judging from what the Jester had said. And he'd screwed up what Fate had had in mind each time. 

Well, good. If there was some grand cosmic plan where he and his friends were sacrificed like pawns on a chessboard, then he wanted nothing to do with what Fate was planning in the future. He was damn well going to change what Fate had in mind, if he could; or if he believed that what was coming needed to be stopped, or changed. _What was it they said in the Terminator movies? Oh yeah, the future is not set; there is no fate but that which we make for ourselves..._

“Damn right. Screw Destiny!” Harris said softly, turning off the sink and drying his hands.

Xander started to make a mental list of the things he needed to do, if he was truly going to make something out of the Jester's gift. He looked at the Iron Coin again for a moment. Harris suddenly realized that he had to make sure he didn't lose the coin as well; the odds were someone Up There wouldn't like him wrecking their plans, whatever plans those were which Fate had had in mind, and so sooner or later he might be targeted and a demon or whatever sent to steal it. Ah well, just one other thing to worry about and add to the laundry list of things to do. 

Shrugging, Xander stuck it into his jeans pocket for now. Probably not the most secure place in the world, but he needed to be able to access it easily for now. Whatever, he'd figure something out later.

Next thing. He opened his desk drawer and lifted the false bottom he'd put in years ago – it hadn't been that hard, overall, and he'd gotten the idea on a whim after watching a spy movie when he was twelve. It wasn't that good a false bottom, but since the only people it needed to fool was his parents, who spent most of their time drunk or hungover – or both – it didn't need to be sophisticated. He kept whatever money had had – summer jobs, finding it, gifts from the handful of relatives who weren't human failures, things like that – hidden there, so his parents wouldn't drink it up like they did with basically all the money they already had. 

Working a summer job by day whilst trying to kill vampires in Buffy's place at nights was, perhaps, not his best ever idea – it was the main reason why Xander wasn't getting enough sleep – but the money was damn well going to come in useful now. He'd been saving up for years, on and off, as best he could. He'd had this idea, since middle school, of doing a Jack Kerouac-style road trip kind of thing; driving off to see all fifty states. Well, the ones he could drive to, anyway; Hawaii would definitely be tricky. Once he'd graduated high school and all that.

These days, though...well, Xander knew that he might end up doing it, and he might not. It depended, he supposed, on a lot of things. Like, for example, how much a bus ticket to Los Angeles would set him back. But first, he needed to see if he could get started on the researching. At least get some kind of idea. Maybe.

He wouldn't go to Giles. Not yet, anyway. First he'd go to that occult store Willow had gone to a few times, after Giles had mentioned it in passing earlier in the summer. _Uncle Bob's Magic Cabinet._ Its ownership tended to change pretty quickly, apparently. More than one owner of the store had been killed by the things that lived in Sunnydale. Xander checked the clock on his bedside table. Too early to go and see what he could find out yet, no way any store would open this early on a Saturday.

So he went out and jogged for a while, came back, took a shower and changed into a clean set of clothes. Xander then made a mental note to do his laundry soon. He could hardly trust his mom to be sober enough to do it, not at this time of the month. She barely remembered to go shopping for groceries once every two weeks or so. Xander sighed to himself, grabbed his money, and walked to the magic store.

Fortunately, the place was open when he arrived. "Blessed be. How can I help you?" The owner, a woman, asked with a practiced-looking smile.

“Where do you keep the real books?” Xander asked as he walked in. He was the only customer at the moment.

“Excuse me?” The owner, a woman, asked.

“The real books. The ones that actually have stuff about magic and demons and all that fun stuff that is real, rather than just gimmicky stuff you put in books to sell to the tourists.” Then, “I'm a friend of Willow's so I know you have them.”

The woman nodded slowly. “Then you're Xander? She's mentioned you once or twice.” She pointed up to the loft area, connected to the store by a ladder. “I keep the real stuff up there. What are you looking for?”

“To be honest, I'm not sure.” Xander told a half-truth there. “I'll know it when I see it though, hopefully.” He went over to the ladder and climbed up it quickly enough, heading for the books that were stored here on the upper level. 

He spent about forty-five minutes looking, but to no avail. Confined to the books written in English for the moment, Xander simply didn't have that much to work with. None of the books he'd skimmed through had what he was looking for. Besides – practically all of them were written in that old medieval English style which guys like Shakespeare and Chaucer wrote in, which made them unnecessarily hard for a modern So-Cal boy like him to understand. It reminded him of English Lit. class, all over again. _Ugh._

Giving up, Xander went back down to the main floor. He handed the woman a ten-dollar note, which he didn't have to do, since he wasn't buying anything; but then she'd didn't have to let him browse through the books without buying something.

“Thanks anyway.” Harris said simply. 

“Not a problem.” The store owner replied. “Willow's a good customer, and a good person at that.”

“She is that.” Xander agreed, then left the store. Well, there went that idea. What next? Well, obviously, it had to be Buffy. Which meant a trip to L.A. He couldn't just leave Sunnydale without telling someone where he was going, though – that was not a good idea in the slightest. He'd tell Giles. Well, he'd tell the man something, anyway.

And thus, some time later, he was knocking on Giles' door. After a minute or so, the Watcher opened the door. “Xander?” Giles asked. “What are you doing here?” He was, as he always seemed to be, cleaning his glasses.

“Hey, G-man, what's up?” Xander asked. “I have a question for you. Mind if I come in?” Even though it was broad daylight, Giles just stepped aside silently. None of the Scoobies ever gave verbal invitations to anyone anymore. Survival instinct made habit, Willow had called it.

“How many times have I told you not to call me – oh, never mind.” Not the first time Giles had said that, and far from the last, for that matter, Xander guessed. Since he wasn't going to stop calling him G-man anytime soon. “What question were you – Xander, what are you doing?”

Xander had retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from the pile of assorted books and was sketching something. Specifically the demon he had seen take off its human-seeming face in the images shown to him by the coin. Which were still just as vivid as when he'd actually seen them. It wasn't that good of a sketch – an artist he was not. He tore the sheet off the pad and handed it to Giles. “Have you ever seen a demon that looks like this? Or something close?”

Giles took the paper and examined the sketch closely, putting his glasses back on. “Xander, this is hardly that much to work on. No offense, but the image is...well, barely mediocre.”

“I know.” Xander replied. “Just – try. Think. Does **_anything_** come to mind?”

Giles shook his head. “No. I mean, of course, I can consult my books, but even with this as a starting point, it might take a while to-” Giles abruptly lowered the paper and looked at Xander, brows furrowed. Something seemed...well, strange, about the boy. No...not strange, exactly. Off...perhaps different...but not quite... “What exactly is this about, Xander?” Giles asked pointedly.

“I can't tell you.” Xander replied quickly.

“Xander.” Giles almost glared at him. “I'm in no mood for games.”

“This isn't a game. I literally cannot tell you.” Xander replied. “Buffy is in L.A.”

That distracted Giles from the picture, which dropped to rest on the ground at his feet. “What? How do you know? I've checked in L.A. Had the Council check in L.A. Where in L.A. is she?”

“I can't tell you.” Xander replied quickly.

“Xander.” Giles almost glared at him. “Don't try to make jokes, as I'm in no mood for games!”

“This isn't a game, or a joke. I literally cannot tell you.” Xander replied. “What I can tell you, though, is that Buffy is in L.A.”

That immediately distracted Giles from the picture, which fell to the ground at his feet. “What? How on earth do you know that? I've checked in Los Angeles. Given that was where Buffy was born and raised for the first sixteen years of her life, that was first place I checked! I – wait. Where in L.A. is she?”

“How do I know that? I can't tell you. Seriously, I can't tell you, Giles.” Xander replied firmly. “God knows I wish I could. Here, let me show you what I mean.” Then he looked up towards the ceiling. "By the way, if you're watching us right now? Please spare me the whole exploding pen thing, on account of this is purely for demonstration purposes!" 

Xander put pen to paper, and started to write 'Iron Coin'. The pen was suddenly out of ink. “Two seconds ago, there was plenty of ink in this pen. I mean you know that, right? Seriously Giles, you saw me draw that sketch!" 

"Well, err, yes..." Giles blinked, trying to wrap his mind around that.

Shrugging, Xander grabbed a pencil, and started to write. The pencil immediately snapped in two. Another pen jammed up, a second pencil was suddenly hollow, as if the lead had just fallen out. “See what I mean? I can't tell you how I know what I know. Not won't; **_can't_**. I don't even want to think about what might happen to me if I tried to actually tell you in words. Seriously, when I tried to write it down earlier, the pen exploded on me! Still, FYI, I know where Buffy is, and I'm going to get on a bus to L.A. and bring her back here, as soon as possible.”

Initially, Giles was at a complete loss for words. “Xander, what the devil is going on?!” He asked after a moment. "Are you under a, a magical geas of some sort?"

“I can't tell you!” Xander said again, looking annoyed. “And for the record, I have no idea what a geas actually is.” Half-true. “Frankly, Giles, all this kinda scares the crap out of me.” Very true. “But like I said, Buffy is in L.A. I know where she is, and I know that _that_ demon,” Harris pointed to the sketch he'd made, “Is involved. And while I'd like nothing better than for you to drive me to the big city, I need you to research something called The Jester.”

“Something called what?” Giles asked, confused.

“The Jester.”

“Xander, I see your lips moving, but you're not actually saying anything.”

_Damn!_ Xander thought in annoyance. “Yes I am, I mean I heard myself say it. Obviously, even telling you his name falls under the 'not allowed to tell anyone anything' part of the spiel I got.”

Giles stared at the Slayerette carefully, processing that. “What, um, what exactly is stopping you from telling me?”

“I have no idea. All I know is I just can't. Words, writing, sign language, signal flags, whatever.” Harris rattled off the list that the Jester had used last night. "Probably some kind of magic, but don't ask me what kind. 'Cause I haven't got a clue."

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself in Mycenaean Greek, thinking aloud without being overheard – or at least, understood – by Xander. He had no idea what to think concerning all this. His initial reaction was to think that Xander was playing some kind of trick on him; but if it was a joke of some sort; it had long since passed the point of being funny. Besides, if there was one thing the boy didn't joke about, it was Buffy's whereabouts. Nonetheless, if all this was on the level, Giles simply could not believe that whoever had imparted said knowledge to the boy would go to such Byzantine lengths to keep their identity a secret. What on earth would be the point?

Still. This was the Hellmouth; Giles had long since learned that nothing was ever truly as it seemed around here, and to expect the unexpected – and moreover, to expect the unexpectable

Xander seemed completely sincere and earnest in his...belief...that Buffy was in Los Angeles, and that he knew where she was in that city of several million people. And sincere and earnest in his inability to communicate exactly how he knew these things. The...demonstration with the pens and pencils just now was at least somewhat convincing, though hardly conclusive, of his claim.

“I take it you trust your informant?” Giles eventually asked, deciding to focus on the more practical aspects of the situation.

Xander shook his head. “Giles, all I can tell you is that Buffy is there. And she needs to be here. The vamps and demons are out there killing people every night, and we need a Slayer to do what we mere mortals can't! Besides; we're her friends, her family. And she's not going to get over what happened with Dead Boy by losing herself in that damn city! She needs to know that we want her back, and that we care.”

Giles frowned. “And how do you propose to get to Los Angeles? You mentioned before, that you didn't want me to drive you there...”

“Bus ticket. That's my next stop after I leave here.” Xander picked up the sketch. “I guess what I need from you right now is to find out more about this demon. It's important. Why, I'm not sure. But I **_know_** it is. I'll call you from a pay phone once I'm in L.A., to see if there's anything you've found out.”

“Well, if I can't talk you out of this, and you need me to research this creature for you – then be careful.” Giles replied. “The Los Angeles night-life, as it were, may not be quite like it is here on the Hellmouth...but in some ways, it's even more dangerous from what I've heard.” He set down the sketch and on the pad, wrote down an address, and then a word, 'Caritas'. He tore the sheet off the pad and handed it to Xander. “There's a place I've heard of, called Caritas. It's some kind of demon bar or nightclub, but nonetheless it's a sanctuary for all, from what I've heard. No one can be hurt or killed while they're in there.”

Xander looked at the paper, then folded it and put it in his pocket – not the one that had the Iron Coin. He nodded. “Thank you.” Then, he said, softly. “I thought about asking her to come along, but then I realized there's nothing she could do or say to convince Buffy to come home that I can't. So please, don't tell Willow about...this...”

“Thing you can't tell me anything about?” Giles asked, raising an eyebrow, almost bemused despite himself. “What exactly would I tell her?”

Xander smirked a little at that. “Thanks, G-man.” He headed for the door as Giles spluttered a moment. 

“Xander!” He exclaimed, only half seriously. “Stop calling me that!”

Xander turned around a moment, still smiling, then left.

**July 11th, 1998  
Helen's Kitchen, Los Angeles**

The bus ride from L.A. had been...tense. Xander had kept rehearsing the conversation he was going to have with Buffy...and now, finally, he had the opportunity to talk to her. Granted, Giles still hadn't identified the demon, but Xander hadn't been able to wait any longer at the depot; the sun was just starting to set outside. Xander watched as Buffy, wearing a waitress uniform, picked up two plates – burgers and fries – and carried them over to a table, where she set them before two tough-looking guys.

“Anything else?” Buffy asked them, looking bored.

“That'll do us, Peaches.” One of them said, leering at the Slayer's voluptuous body. 

_Peaches? What the hell? Is this guy still living in the Eighties or what?_ Was Xander's initial reaction. _I mean, really!? Does he think that works?_ He shook his head and watched. To his surprise, Buffy just tore their bill off her pad and set it on the table. 

“You can pay at the counter.”

“Sure you don't want me to work it off for you?” The same guy said crudely, his friend laughing just as crudely at that. Buffy ignored him and walked past the table – on her way to his table, Xander realized. The man suddenly reached out and grabbed her ass for a moment. The two jerks laughed again as Buffy stood stock still, stiff as an iron rod for a moment, then continued on as if nothing had happened.

Xander was shocked; he'd half-expected Buffy to tear that guy's arm off and beat him to death with it. Well, okay, maybe not anything that extreme, especially not in public, but still...back in Sunnydale, she'd have at least punched his lights out. _God...she has changed..._

Buffy reached his table, and took out the pad, ready to write down his order. She hadn't actually noticed who it was she was serving yet. “What can I get you?” the Slayer asked, looking down at her pad.

Xander looked up at her. “Well, for starters, I'd like one of my two best friends back.” Harris said softly. 

Buffy nearly dropped the pad when she saw him. Immediately, she took a half step back. “ _Xander!?!_ ” She half-hissed. “What – how did you – what the hell are you doing here?!” 

“Looking for you, of course.” Xander replied. He leaned forward a little, towards her. “Why do you _**think**_ I'm here? Buffy-” 

“No-no...no.” Buffy cut him off, backing away. “No. Just go away.” She turned around and headed towards the back of the diner. She had a quick, quiet conversation with another waitress, handed her her pad, took off her apron, and hurried out of the diner. Xander immediately got up and followed her out.

“Buffy!” Harris called after her. “Wait!” But Buffy started to walk faster, crossing the street, not quite running yet. Thus, Xander had no choice but to run after her. “Buffy, stop!” He called again.

Buffy turned down onto another street, and Xander followed after her. She finally turned around and stopped after he called her name a third time. “Why are you doing this?! God damn it, Xander, why are you here?!” Buffy demanded.

“I'm here because you're my friend. I'm here because we need you. I'm here because people are dying every night in Sunnydale, after you ran away and left us to fend for ourselves. And I'm here because you hiding after what happened with Angelus and Acathla isn't good for you!”

“What the hell would you know about it, Xander!?” Buffy demanded, stepping a pace closer to him. “You weren't there...you didn't have to...it wasn't Angelus that I sent to Hell that day! It was Angel. He was back!” She paused a moment. “But it was too late...Acathla had opened his mouth...Angel's blood was the only way to save the world. So I killed him! I had to shove a sword through his chest and send the man I loved to Hell!” She was almost yelling by that point. "And **_don't_** tell me you're sorry Angel's gone! We both know you're not!"

_So...I was wrong, Willow's spell did work._ Xander felt a little remorse for his actions, but not much. Despite Willow's actions, he still believed telling Buffy the Big Lie had been the right thing to do. The fact that the world was still here... “You're right, I'm not sorry about what happened to your undead boyfriend. I'm sorry how all that totally upsets you, sure, but I'm not going to mourn Angel's death; not after all the people that died because of his psycho alter ego, and because I'm not that much of a hypocrite. I haven't been since I killed my best friend, after Jesse became a soulless blood-sucking monster that tried to kill both me and Cordelia! Look, Buffy, you did what you had to in order to save the world. And maybe you needed to get away for a while, after you did that. But now it's time to come home.”

“I can't!” She insisted. “My mom said-”

“She said don't ever come back if you walk out that door, right?” Xander interrupted. “I know, she told me. But do you really, honestly, think she meant it? Think about it, Buffy. Your mother loves you! She's been worried out of her mind about you, all summer! God knows I'd kill to have a mom like yours. She's been beating herself up all this time, over what she said. And God, Buffy, look me in the eye and tell me you think you actually belong _**here!**_ Just my opinion, but you don't belong in what's clearly the ass-end of L.A., working in some sleazy diner. Seriously, what happened back there? The Buffy Summers I knew would never have let a guy grab her ass like that. I mean, you just acted like it never happened?”

“I'm not the Buffy you knew!” Buffy responded, actually yelling this time. “I can't do it! Being a Slayer...its not-”

“Bullshit!!” Xander cut her off fiercely. He walked a step towards her, and took her hand. “Buffy, listen to me. You are the bravest person I've ever met, and not because you fight vampires and demons and all the other monsters out there – though yes, that's part of it – but because you keep doing it. Night after night, you kept going out there to fight them, and then you went to school the next day, and kept trying to have a normal life...and even after everything that happened back in May, you're still sane? Hell, half the time I think I might be going crazy. But not you. Deep down, you're still the same girl I knew. You're Buffy Summers. You're the Slayer, and you're my friend.” 

Buffy tore her hand from his grip. Not that he'd been holding her hand that tightly. “No! Damn you, Xander, you don't understand...everything...that happened...”

Xander nodded. “You're right. I don't understand. I wasn't there, and yea, I staked the closest thing I had to a brother, but it's not the same situation as you were in. I get that. But lemme ask you something, Buffy; are you happy here? Is this really helping? Has running away made it hurt any less?”

“I can forget all the pain.” _Mostly..._ Buffy sighed. “For a while, anyway.”

“Yeah, and that's my point exactly. Buffy, you're the Slayer, and you can't forget that. I mean you can try, but you'll fail. You left the Hellmouth and you came back to L.A. You think you can hide here forever, all by yourself? You think the Council won't catch up with you, sooner or later? God damn it, Buffy, I don't want you to die if those people suddenly decide that you're a liability to the cause! And if not them, then some vampire or demon that wants to become the big man by killing the Slayer! If you just keeping hiding like this, when the fact that you're the Slayer finally catches up with you, I don't think you're going to live through it.” 

Then an idea occurred to Xander, and he thought back to what he'd seen...the images still vivid in his mind. He reached out and took her hand again, pulling the Slayer back down the street. “Come on.” Harris said. “There's something I need to show you. If this doesn't convince you-” 

Buffy once again tore her hand from his grip. "I told you, I'm not the Slayer anymore. I quit! I resigned! I'm **_done_** with all that!"

Xander turned to face her. “Buffy. Please. Just follow me. You're still the Buffy I knew – I know. You don't just fight demons, and vampires and save the world out of duty, or for yourself. You do it because it's the right thing to do. Because you're helping people. And right now, there are people here in L.A. that need your help. They need you to save them.” 

“Xander, what are you talking about? I can't-”

“ _Please_ , Buffy.” He paused. “Look, just let me show you what I'm talking about; and then if you don't have a problem with it, if you can't bring yourself to help those people, well, what the hell. You can leave, and I'll fight them by myself. Afterwards if I live, which is pretty unlikely, I'll go home, forget that I ever found you, and leave you to all...” Xander gestured to the dismal neighborhood surroundings, “this. I'll leave you alone to wallow in your despair, if that's what you really want.” 

Slowly, Buffy nodded. She didn't say anything. Xander turned and led her to the second area he'd seen from the visions. That place with the black tar-like liquid, and the demon who took off his face. Peeled it off, more, now that Xander thought about it. The Family Home. He'd canvassed the place earlier, before heading off to the diner. Xander wasn't sure what the demon was doing with the runaways and homeless and lost souls that he was passing out the fliers to, or who came into his 'homeless shelter'. But he would bet everything he owned and then some that it wasn't to 'fill the empty place in their souls', or anything that was good for the people involved.

The alley that held the entrance to the 'Family Home' had the guy standing outside it, holding the fliers. Xander walked up to the guy, Buffy following behind him. There was a frown on the Chosen One's face, as her Slayer-sense suddenly went crazy.

“Excuse me? I've got a question for you.” Harris said politely. Then without waiting for a response, he reached over and grabbed 'Ken's' forehead; and immediately, Xander started pulling, hard. There was a strange...vaguely squishing noise, and then the face started to move, peeling off. “How long does it take you to glue this thing on?” With another hard pull, the entire thing started to slide right off, and then Xander pulled it away from the demon's face completely.

The demon face underneath was a weird sickly-brown color, and it looked almost as if parts of the skin were cut away to reveal the muscle underneath, or something. It looked humanoid...but it was all the more disturbing for that fact its real inhumanity was obvious as well.

“My face!” The demon grabbed the front of Xander's shirt and lifted him into the air, mad fury in its eyes. “You _tore off_ my face! Do you have _any idea_ how hard it is-”

“No.” Xander interrupted, resisting the urge to cry out in fear, which was growing stronger by the second. “I don't know how hard it is to put that thing on. That's kind of why I asked -” 

Xander's speech was interrupted when he was suddenly dropped to the ground. He looked up from his position, ass flat on the sidewalk, groaning in pain, to see Buffy and the demon fighting. And Buffy was definitely kicking ass. 

“Go Buffy,” Harris said, gritting his teeth, then groaning again. He picked himself up. Nothing seemed to be broken, thank God. “Wait! Don't kill him just yet, Buff. He's been bringing homeless people – teenagers mostly – into that place. And I don't think it's to offer them tea and scones, or whatever.”

Buffy stopped whaling on the demon for a moment and picked _him_ up by the front of his shirt. “Okay, let's do the whole Q &A thing. What are you doing with them?” She demanded. Oddly, Buffy felt...almost like herself again. Not quite...but... she recycled a line she'd used a few months ago. “Start talking, before I make you wear your ribcage as a hat!”

“I won't tell you any-” Buffy punched 'Ken' in the gut with her free hand. Hard. “Alright!” The demon said with a groan. He started to talk – although Buffy had to 'encourage' him to continue every other sentence or so. 

The whole sordid scheme soon came out; 'Ken' was taking people who wouldn't be missed to another dimension, a demon world where time passed much faster than here on Earth. The enslaved humans worked and worked and worked until they were too old to be productive anymore, and then they were shoved back into this world to die of old age. Barely a day would pass here, but a century there. Perfect little scheme, from a certain point of view. 

Buffy threw the demon into the wall, and beat him up some more, before finally killing him. _Asshole!_

Xander followed Buffy in as she handled two more demons – also wearing human masks – and then they came into another room...which had a pool of what looked like black tar, just like Harris had seen from the vision the Iron Coin had conferred. 

“Wait here.” Buffy said, grabbing a heavy candlestick, after blowing out the candle and tossing it aside. “I'm going to go in and get those people out of there.” 

“Hang on a second, Buff. What do we know about how many enemies you'll be facing down there, all alone? And, uh, does that mean what I think it means?” Xander asked softly.

Buffy nodded. “I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And I'm back.”

**Next Episode of The Iron Coin Chronicles Season 1:** ...And Sometimes You Can. Coming (eventually) to a computer near you. I won't promise 'soon'. But I hope for soonish.


	3. Episode 2: ...And Sometimes You Can

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I own the Jester, the Librarian, and The Iron Coin, along with other things you don't recognize from the original.

**Author's Note:** Its a short 'Episode', yes, I will grant. But that's in part because there is less to tell. This is Xander's story, not Buffy's or anyone else's, so there won't be POV scenes from anyone but Xander - until later, as we go on, because the needs of the story will demand it.. The original 'Buffy comes home' episode manages to be as long as it is primarily because it throws in the zombie-mask subplot. That isn't applicable here because Buffy comes home months earlier than in-show, so Joyce hasn't gotten the shipment Nigerian art to begin with.

Huge thanks to Starway for his work beta-reading the chapter, and his writing of the entire second part, minus the changes I made to it. My serious writer's block on that part would have kept this chapter from coming out for a while.

And, as always, any mistakes you see are mine.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 2: ...And Sometimes You Can

**July 11th, 1998  
**  
Outside 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale

The bus journey back to Sunnydale took just as long as the original trip to the City of Angels had taken, and by the time Xander and Buffy arrived back on the Hellmouth, it was long past sundown. Still, as far as Harris was concerned, that didn't really matter; as long as the Slayer was back home where she belonged, it didn't matter what the hell time they'd gotten here. 

It had been an 'interesting' day. After they had discovered that pool of black tar, or whatever the hell it was, Xander had persuaded Buffy to help him find some real weapons – and then they had come up with a plan of sorts. Namely, that the Chosen One would enter the portal and if she wasn't out within five minutes, he would come in after her after calling Giles. Buffy hadn't liked the idea of calling her Watcher, not even as a backup plan, but she'd had to admit – better that than spending the rest of her life trying in vain to get back home. Anyway, as far as Xander was concerned Buffy had been in that...demon dimension for only a few seconds, at most – really, it was more the blink of an eye between when she went in and when he was helping pull people out of the portal/pool. 

But from what Buffy's point of view, it had been several hours down there. Hours spent sneaking around, battling against demons and rescuing the human slaves. By the time she'd jumped out and the black tar portal had vanished, Buffy had been exhausted. Fortunately, she'd been too swept up in events to ask Xander again – and this time, actually demand an answer – about how he'd known exactly where to find her in L.A. Or ask him about how he'd known that Ken was a demon, and that the 'homeless shelter' been taking homeless kids in and turning them into slaves for the rest of their lives.

It had occurred to Xander, while he was feeling relieved about that fact, that he really should think of some feasible answers to those questions. Despite her 'dumb blonde' act – which she had down to a T – Buffy Anne Summers was not an idiot. Not in the least. Xander, personally, had to question her common sense sometimes, granted; but then, that was sort of the pot calling the kettle black, given his own track record in the gray matter department. 

_Let's face it, Cordelia and Oz are the only sane ones in the entire group._ Xander considered. And given that Oz was a werewolf, what did that say about the value of Sanity on the Hellmouth? Not much, he had to admit.

Buffy had slept the entire trip back, throughly exhausted. She'd worked nearly a full shift by the time Xander had found her, and then tacked onto that several hours of demon-slaying in a hell dimension with a screwy time stream. Talk about jet lag. _Or maybe dimension lag?_ She only woke back up when Xander said her name softly as the Bus pulled into the station. Another downside of being a slayer. They were light sleepers.

And now they were standing on the sidewalk, in front of Buffy's house. "Well, here we are," Xander said with a gesture. "Home sweet home."

“Xander, I can't-” Buffy started to say, suddenly unsure of herself again. 

“Yes, you can.” Xander replied softly. “You **_can_** do this.”

“But what if my mom-?”

“Buffy, please don't start with the self-pity party again, and **_think_** for a minute! Does your mother love you?”

Buffy nodded slowly. “Yeah, she does...” Then she said it again with more certainty, “She does.” 

"So, even if she told you never to come back if you walked out that door two months ago, do you ****_really_ think your mom is just gonna slam the front door in your face, as soon as she sees you standing on the porch?" 

"I...no..." 

"Then what the heck are you waiting for? Go. Do that whole "I missed you so much" dealie with your mother," Xander ordered the young woman. "Because I know for a fact she's missed you too. Put the poor woman out of her misery, already!" 

Buffy took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, steeling herself. “Okay.” She took another breath. “Alright, I can do this. I can...thanks for everything, Xander, but I think I can handle it alone from here.”

“Good.” Xander nodded as well. “Look, I'll go tell Giles and the others that you're back. It's too late for a Scooby Gang meeting now, and besides; your mom will want you all to herself for the rest of the night, I'm sure. Willow might stop by your house anyway, later, but what say we all meet up at Giles's place; tomorrow afternoon, maybe?”

“Sure.” Buffy agreed. Then she frowned, staring at her friend. "You gonna be okay getting to Giles's condo from here? I mean, I could escort you..." 

"I'll be fine. I'm Cross and Stake Guy, see?" Xander displayed his weapons to the Chosen One. "Never leave home without 'em! Now go on and do the big family reunion thing. It's way past time." 

"Right." Buffy quickly took a third deep breath and walked up to the front door of her house, and knocked.

Not wanting to intrude on a private moment, Xander turned and left as Buffy knocked, heading for Giles's apartment.

He paused mid-step about halfway there, a thought occurring to him. He completed his step, made sure he still had a cross around his neck, and his emergency stake easy at hand – it was Sunnydale at night – and stopped to think.

He would have to use the Iron Coin again, eventually. Right now was as good a moment as any. The Jester had told him that he would only be able to use the Iron Coin to see a few months ahead of time. Which meant, logically, that he would have to flip for his friends every few months – probably once a month or so, just to be safe. Unless, of course, he screwed up Fate's plans recently, at which point getting a quick glimpse ahead would be a fine idea.

He flipped the coin. “Buffy Summers.” He caught it. There had not been a single image in his head.

He flipped it again. “Buffy Summers.” Nothing.

Flip .“Willow Rosenberg.” Nothing.

Flip. “Daniel Osbourne.” Nothing.

Flip. “Rupert Giles.” Nada, zip, zilch.

One last flip. “Joyce Summers.” And still, there was just a big, huge, steaming pile of a whole-lot of nothing.

For a few moments, he felt... _panic?_ rising within him. Had the coin stopped working? Was it suddenly defective? Then he remembered:

_Fate doesn't determine everything in everyone's life. I'll give you an analogy you **should** be able to follow. Imagine your life as a book. Now, for most people – like yourself and the vast majority of you humans, you book is entirely blank. You and the people around you – friends, family, enemies, random people on the street – all write it yourselves. But others, people Fate has deemed important to their plans, well, they can have entire chapters, or just scenes, or maybe even just individual lines written into their books. Their lives. Not everything is decided, but some things are. Most of the time, even for the most written-in people, free will is the overriding thing. Just...not always._

Like the images from when he'd flipped the coin that night, that whole conversation seemed burned into his memory. But what did it mean? That his friends' fates were currently in limbo, because of his actions? Had the act of bringing Buffy home at this point in time been enough to screw Fate's plans up completely? If so, Xander didn't know how he felt about that.

He looked at the coin closely for a moment, then slipped it back into his pocket. He wondered idly what would happen if he showed the object to Giles, or used it around someone, if that would qualify as 'telling'. It probably would, and so Xander didn't want to take chances on the consequences of such actions. 

He reached Giles' condo and knocked on the front door of Apartment B. Giles opened up within less than a minute. “Ah, Xander. Is Buffy-?”

“She's back, and she's fine. Physically, anyway, bar bruises from the demons she took out, but that's nothing new for her. And I think her brains in a much better place now too.” He smiled, then entered the apartment. Giles closed it behind him. “The Slayer is back.”

“That...that is good. She's with her mother, I take it?” 

Xander nodded. “She was really broken up, what with her mom telling her to never come back. Personally, I think Buffy was stupid to believe Mrs. S when she said-”

“Considering all the events that had happened leading up to that, I would argue that while what she did was foolish, and hasty, its perfectly understandable. And, so is what Joyce said to her, even if she was also foolish and hasty to say such to her daughter.”

Xander sighed. “Maybe you're right...no...no, you are.” He conceded. “Still, she shouldn't have...” He sighed again. “The main reason I came by now wasn't just to tell you that Buffy is here, though. I'm also here because we need to work out a cover story.”

“Cover story? I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Hey, we need an explanation as to how I knew about where to find Buffy, and about those demons at the 'homeless shelter'.” He quickly went over everything that had happened in Los Angeles, from finding Buffy at the restaurant to the encounter with 'Ken' at the 'Family Home'.

Giles looked confused. “Why can't you just tell her what you told me?”

“Tell her what, exactly? Like you said earlier today, I didn't really tell you much of anything. Any honest answer I try to give her wouldn't exactly qualify as an answer at all! And you know what Buffy's like, Giles; she won't be satisfied with an 'I can't tell you.' No way, no how! To be honest, I'm a little surprised that I was able to tell you as much as I did, now that I think about it.”

Giles turned off his glasses and started to clean them. “So you are proposing to lie to her? And to Willow, and Oz, and even Cordelia?”

“Well...when you put it like that...” He trailed off, then shrugged helplessly. “Kind of, yes.” He looked at the man who had been his pseudo father-figure for the last year and change. “You can't tell me you don't see why I think that's the best idea for all concerned. Especially given what we're dealing with!”

Giles put his glasses back on. “No, I can't tell you that. And I see your point. Though I do wish we could find out more about the geas you seem to be under, and how to correct it. But, yes given how...whatever is going on is intrinsically tied up with you...you're the expert, as it were.”

“Now there's a frightening thought. Me, an expert at anything but Twinkies?” He smiled, then his expression grew more serious. “Anyway, so, what is a cover story that Buffy might accept, do ya think?”

“Well, err, just off the top of my head – the Watchers Council sent someone to Los Angeles to look for Buffy, and they found her, but the field operative had a rare moment of intelligent insight that it would be better if a friend approached her, rather than a stranger whose intentions and motivations were completely unknown to her.”

Xander nodded. “Make sense. Even has the advantage of being half-true. I mean, you _**did**_ get the Council to send people down there before now, didn't you?”

“Yes...and I did tell them not to approach Buffy themselves if they spotted her. Though I don't know if they would have listened, had those people actually found her...” Giles added. “And as for the demon, I could always say that he – that it – was also something the Watcher reported to me about, and I mentioned it to you in passing after deciding to send you to bring Buffy home.”

Xander nodded. “That does make sense.” He nodded again. "And if the Buffster asks, I can say that I scoped out the situation before I found her in that diner. Which is also true enough...in a way." 

"Very well. You'll be, uh, bringing Buffy here tomorrow, then?" Giles asked. 

"Tomorrow afternoon. All the gang'll be here, Giles. We'll see you then." Xander quickly said his goodbyes, and then vanished out the door. It was late, and he had to head off home and get a good night's sleep. He suspected that he would need it for the meeting tomorrow.

**July 12th, 1998  
Outside 523B Oak Park Street, Sunnydale**

Xander stood on the street alongside Willow, Oz and Cordelia as they waited for Buffy to show up. It was Sunday afternoon, and so the street was more or less deserted. 

"She's late." Cordelia said sharply, and not for the first time. The cheerleader looked utterly bored waiting for Buffy to show up, and there was only so many times she could examine her nails for any blemishes and imperfections.

"Buffy will be here." Willow replied faithfully. "I spoke with her on the phone last night **and** this morning, she promised me that she'd show up!"

"Fine. I'm just saying, she's late. And quite frankly, I've got other things - much better, more important things - which I could be doing right now," Cordy riposted. 

"Example?" Oz asked in short, non-committal way.

"Well, I need to get organized and pack for the Chase family vacation, for starters. You think if I'm not there to supervise her, the maid will actually remember to include everything I need for spending six weeks in Mexico? Ha! I don't **_think_** so," Cordelia said imperiously.

Willow turned to face Xander. "So, now that Buffy's back...are you gonna be going with Cordelia and her family, or-?"

"Nah. Way too late now," Xander shrugged. "Besides, I get the feeling that Cordy's mom and dad don't like me too much."

"Hey!" The Chase girl said in annoyance. "So what if they're not exactly happy how I'm dating a known loser with few, if any prospects? You're not in a relationship with them, you're in a relationship with **me**! And Cordelia Chase dates whoever the hell she wants to date!"

Despite her tone, Xander wasn't bothered. It was just the way she was, and it was, in its own way, a compliment. "And approximately 65% of that was actually a compliment. Gotta be a new record," Xander wisecracked, before his girlfriend gave him a smack on the chest and he yelped in pain.

"Been there, man. Willow's dad didn't seem to like me much the one time we met, either." Oz said in his usual calm, laid-back manner. "Mentioned that if I turned his little girl into a groupie, he'd give me an in-depth course about the theory and practice of circumcision. Using a pair of pruning shears."

"OZ!" Willow yelped, looking horrified.

"Ouch," Xander nodded sympathetically.

"Hey, look! Isn't that Mrs. Summers' Jeep?" Cordelia pointed with her chin, pointedly ignoring the male antics.

Indeed it was. The car swiftly pulled over in front of the Scooby Gang, before Joyce and Buffy got out. "Hey," the Slayer greeted her friends.

"BUFFY!" Willow immediately ran over and gave her best friend a big hug. "Oh, I'msogladyou'resafeweallmissedyousomuchandIdon'tknowwheretostartabout-"

"Okay, Will, breathe!" Buffy looked amused that the beloved Willow-babble hadn't changed, even if some other things had. She stepped back and said, "Hey, you cut your hair. The new style...looks good on you."

"Well, duh! Because I was the one who picked it out for her!" Cordelia exclaimed, before unleashing her patented megawatt smile. "Welcome home, Buffy. Seriously, I am so glad you're back! Because now, my boyfriend won't have to risk his neck fighting the monsters every night after you ran away and left us to do the job for you!"

_And the winner and reigning champion of the Sunnydale Tact Girl Competition, is definitely still Cordelia Chase..._ Buffy thought grouchily. All she said though was, "Hi Cordy, long time no see."

"Ditto. Welcome back." Oz said laconically.

"Thanks, Oz. Good to see you too." Buffy replied with genuine warmth.

"So, Mrs. S. Wasn't expecting to see you here today." Xander remarked, ignoring the fact that Buffy hadn't personally greeted him. Not that there was a need, since they'd talked last night. But it stung. Just a tiny amount. "What's the up with that?"

"Well, uh, Buffy and I talked all last night. And since it's, um, been made clear to me that being the Slayer is... is something she can't avoid, no matter how hard she tries, there's nothing I can do but help her as best I can with...all this." Joyce told him hesitantly, gesturing a little helplessly as she spoke. Then her voice firmed up, "And by the way, Xander, I'd also like to know why Mr. Giles sent you to Los Angeles yesterday to bring my little girl home. Why on earth didn't he call me? If only to tell me that he'd finally learned where my daughter was?"

"Yeah, uh, I figure you should ask the G-man that question, Mrs. Summers," Xander said hurriedly, seeing everyone staring at him. "I mean, I know what he told me yesterday, you might wanna get that information straight from the horse's mouth..."

Joyce accepted that, and quickly marched to the British man's front door, the teenagers all following behind her. She knocked three times on the door, and when Giles opened up she barged inside without waiting for an invitation. "Mr. Giles, I'd like to have a word with you!"

"Of course, Mrs. Summers, I – Buffy? Oh, thank heaven you're back..." After spying his charge, Giles uncharacteristically gave her a hug, something which Buffy returned wholeheartedly with a huge smile on her face.

"AHEM!" Joyce did not look happy about the impromptu display of affection between the Watcher and the Slayer. As she'd said to the Watcher recently, she wasn't okay with the secret relationship those two had shared behind her back for over eighteen months now. "Mr. Giles?"

"Uh, y-y-yes." Rupert stammered. "Um, my apologies for, err, any unseemly displays of affection, a-as it were."

The adults started to talk about....well, the whole mess. Meanwhile, the five teens went to the couch made themselves comfortable. They listened to Buffy's mother grilling Giles about everything that had happened yesterday, before deciding to focus on their own conversation; on account of the quintet had mostly heard it all before, during various phone calls this morning.

"Hey, so, you're not wanted for murder anymore." Oz told Buffy, deciding to get the ball rolling.

"Good. That was such a drag." the Slayer replied, playing it cool.

"So, I heard you were in L.A. the past six weeks. What, were you living on the streets? Was your house a box or something?" Cordelia asked, eyebrow raised.

"No. I worked as a waitress in a diner, I made enough to keep a real roof over my head." Buffy replied stonily.

"Go Buffy!" Willow jumped in a little too eagerly. After everyone started staring at her, the apprentice witch blushed and stammered, "And I meant that in, in, a-a-a totally friendly and supportive way."

"So what's new around here?" Buffy asked, looking around. "Xander? We didn't exactly get a chance to talk yesterday, I slept the entire bus ride home. What's new with you?"

"Oh, you know, nothing much. Same old, same old," Xander lied, briefly touching the Iron Coin in his jeans pocket.

"Hardly. You've been doing the whole Boy Slayer thing for the past two months! I mean, after Buffy disappeared, someone had to!" Cordelia said tactlessly.

"Thinking maybe this isn't the time for that," Oz commented, after seeing the expression on Buffy's face.

"No...no, we may as well get this over with now. Xander, I'm assuming you've told everyone what I told you in L.A., how the soul curse worked at the last second...but I had to send Angel to Hell anyway?" Buffy asked, looking around at her friends.

"WHAT?" Willow, Oz and Cordelia all exclaimed at the same time.

"Uh, no, Buff," Xander said, looking embarrassed. "Kinda figured that was sorta your thing to tell."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm so sorry," Willow said, with tears appearing in her eyes. "What happened?"

"Angel was cured. Your spell worked at the last minute, Will. It was a hell of a battle and I was just about to take him out, but then...something went through him...and he was Angel again. He-he didn't remember anything that he'd done since my birthday. But i-it was...it was too late, that big hunk o' rock demon was active, and I, I had to shove that sword through Angel's chest. So I, I told him that I loved him...and I kissed him...and then I killed him. He got...swallowed up by that vortex. It sent him...straight to Hell." Buffy seemed to choke on her words and then the waterworks started, as Willow immediately scooted away from Oz to try to comfort her BFF.

Xander felt more than a little guilty watching this display. For a moment, he wondered if he should confess about how he'd lied to Buffy that morning, just outside the abandoned old mansion; but then he decided against it. The only thing that would accomplish would be to make Buffy hate him; possibly Willow too. Besides, Xander still wasn't actually sorry that Angel was finally gone from their lives. He hated how the vampire's loss caused his hero so much agonizing pain, and he regretted the fact Buffy had had to do something which she would doubtless never forgive herself for... 

But Xander Harris wasn't sorry about the Big Lie; not if it meant the world had been safeguarded from ending up in Hell, and that there was now one less vampire in it.

"Sorry, I just – I guess I needed to get all that off of my chest," Buffy sniffled, avoiding everyone's expressions.

"Yeah, I can tell. Look, what do you say you, me and Willow go on a shopping trip to the mall tomorrow?" Cordelia suggested, as everyone turned to look at her. "I mean, retail therapy _always_ works for me. And I know buying a few dozen pairs of Jimmy Choo's isn't gonna magically erase the heartbreak...but at least it's a start, right?"

"I, I thought you had to get prepared for your family's...no, never mind. Cordy, that's a _great_ idea!" Willow quickly switched directions on what to say, before starting to gush, "I mean, I-I-I've been thinking of changing my wardrobe lately; 'cause we're gonna be seniors after summer vacation, and, and I don't think my old clothes are gonna cut it after school starts up again in a few months..."

"You know you'll have to talk to Principal Snyder before they'll let you into school again, right? Guy had you expelled," Oz commented to Buffy, actually making an expression for once.

"Yeah, I know. The vindictive little troll actually told me that directly to my face, after I grabbed that knight's sword from the library. Snyder was smiling the whole time, too," Buffy scowled before she sighed. "I figure my mom's gonna make an appointment with His Ugliness, and break his resistance down. Force him to let me back in, by the time summer's over."

"And if the Snyde-man doesn't break?" Xander asked softly.

"I dunno. We'll think of something. Maybe appeal directly to the Mayor, or whatever," Buffy shrugged.

For a moment...just for a moment...the Iron Coin within Xander's jeans pocket glowed as it protected its bearer from the forces of Fate, even as those same forces tried to push Harris into a direction that he personally would have hated – where Richard Wilkins and the Slayer named Faith Lehane were concerned.

**Next on The Iron Coin Chronicles:** Season 1, Episode 3. Things start to change, as senior year gets started. What will happen when the forces of Fate and Chaos clash? And what's this about a Nigerian Mask?


	4. Episode 3: Enter Faith

**Disclaimer:** Don't own.

**Author's Note:**  I know in the teaser last chapter I said I'd be dealing with the Mask episode, but I found that there was little to work with in that episode directly related to the Mask part.

In general, if I don't mention an episode where the main thread is unrelated to the arc of the season, assume it happened as laid out in the show, largely.

Thanks to my beta-reader, Starway Man.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 3: Enter Faith

**October 13th, 1998  
The Bronze, Sunnydale**

_Seriously, Mom, next time you decide to bring art home from the gallery, **check** with Giles first, and make sure it isn't a cursed zombie-raising demon-mask, or whatever!_

Xander briefly smiled as he recalled the words an exasperated and zombie goop-covered Buffy had told her mother last week, following the 'night of the living dead' remake within la Casa del Summers. He wasn't sure why he was remembering those particular words right now, but nonetheless, he was doing so.

It had been an interesting few months, to be sure. Cordelia had left on her family vacation, not long after Buffy had arrived home. Willow and Oz had pretty much done their own thing, while Joyce had eventually forced Principal Snyder to raise the metaphorical white flag, threatening to go directly to the Mayor after those murder charges against Buffy had been dropped. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the Slayer had been forced to attend summer school as part of the deal struck with the school board to make up for the missed classes and final exams, which had left Xander more or less all by himself for the rest of the summer.  
   
Still, his time had been spent learning what he could; not only about the Iron Coin he now possessed, but also learning Latin with Giles’s help. Plus, Xander had tried to raise money for his upcoming road-trip after Graduation, doing odd jobs here and there; and thanks to Buffy’s presence in Sunnydale, he’d had a lot more success at that than he otherwise would have, without being distracted about the things that went ‘chomp’ in the night.

Though, unfortunately, he hadn't really learned that much about the Iron Coin, when you got right down to it.  
   
Still, the summer break had passed fairly quickly, and all too soon the gang’s senior year of high school had started up. Xander had taken a certain amount of pride in the fact that once Cordelia had arrived home, there was no issue of them breaking up or going on a break or whatever; his girlfriend had obviously missed him as much as he’d missed her, if their passionate make-out sessions were anything to go by.

And curious historical sidebar, Xander and Cordelia had been making out in the Summers kitchen while Oz, Willow and Buffy had been watching TV, when the zombies had attacked last week; but thanks to Joyce’s screams, that particular lip-lock session hadn’t lasted too long.  
   
Anyway, back to the here and now. Xander followed Buffy out of the Bronze into the side-alley next to it, Willow, Cordelia and Oz with them as well. He was prepping himself to be surprised, even though he wasn't going to be. He had to look the part, though. The black-haired girl they were out here to 'save' from a sunlight challenged teen would not be needing their help.

Buffy looked around. “Where'd she go?”

She took a few more steps down one part of the alley, looking. Xander made a point of looking like he was looking, as the others actually did some looking.

“I bet its nothing.” Cordelia said, unconvinced. “They're probably just making out.”

As Buffy came back towards them, they heard a loud, female voice, “Hey!” The owner of the voice seemed to be complaining, or protesting some action. Before they could head towards the noise, the sound of something crashing onto the ground and breaking could be heard.

Deliberately mirroring what he'd seen himself do last night, Xander reached into his coat and pulled out a stake, handing it to Buffy. She looked surprised, but accepted the weapon regardless.

“That's not what making out sounds like.” Willow said, then added, softly, “Unless I'm doing it wrong.” 

The five friends hurried towards the source of the noise, quickly seeing the two people they'd followed out – who, Cordelia, in her ever so colorful way, had dubbed 'Slut-o-Rama' and 'Disco Dave'. The guy had the girl pinned against the wall.

“Stop struggling.” The vampire demanded. “This won't hurt a bit.”  _Yeah right._ Xander thought to himself, amused.  _Bonus points for unknowing irony._

Everything that happened afterwards took place exactly as he'd foreseen last night. The guy vamped out and moved in to bite the girl. In response, she grabbed his neck, lifting him an inch off the ground and pushing him away. Quickly, she jabbed her elbow into his face, let him go, and jumped onto a crate as Disco Dave staggered for a moment before regaining his balance.

She jumped at him, giving his face one of those mid-air roundhouse kicks that only Slayers and vampires seem to be able to pull off, and he fell to the pavement. Buffy ran up towards the two. The girl saw Buffy and smiled, approaching.  
“It's okay, I got it. You're, uh, Buffy, right?” She asked.

Xander watched as Buffy was hit speechless by that. As he kept looking on to see the girl beat on the vampire, he thought back a bit.

**The Night Before  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

_Holy shit -that vision had me doing something in it...how is that....they can't...he said Fate can't control what I do..._

Xander slowly put the Iron Coin back in his pocket and looked around. “I know you're probably watching. Since I'm supposed to be entertaining you, with all this. So how about you answer me this? How the hell does that vision have me predetermined as doing anything? I thought you said I was an agent of chaos, or something-”

“Yes, I did say that, didn't I?” Xander turned around to see the Jester standing near his window, looking straight at him. “And it’s true enough, you are.”  
   
“Then how is it I was in that vision after I flipped your coin, doing something pre-planned by Fate?”

“Ah. Well, I’d have thought you would have figured that out by yourself, but if I must spell everything out for you...” the Jester sighed theatrically.  
   
“You must. You must.” Xander said stoically, staring at his visitor.

“Its not that simple. As an Agent of Chaos, the Forces of Fate indeed cannot control what you do. They cannot write in your book.” The Jester stared at Xander, his unblinking solid-blue eyes looking somewhat amused. “ _ **But**_  it's not quite that simple; they can construct certain events around you, by controlling the lives of your friends. After all, they’re your – what’s the best term – ah, yes, your   _ **Achilles Heel.**_  You spend so much time around your friends, they’re practically your entire life; something which you may see as a strength, but Fate can exploit as a weakness. Because the Agents of Order can make educated guesses as to what you’ll do. Past performance is an excellent predictor of future behavior. So, they predict.”  
   
“And if I don't do what they’ll guess I'll do? What happens to their pre-scripted plans for my buds?” Xander demanded angrily.  
   
“Again, it’s not that simple.” The Jester paused a moment, choosing his words with uncharacteristic carefulness. “Beings like myself and the other forces of Fate and Chaos just don't think as low, and simply, and linearly, and frankly stupidly, as you humans.”

Xander rolled his eyes.  _Heard that one before, buddy, find a new theme!_  
   
The Jester Continued. “They don't plan for just one set of actions on your behalf. Fate will create a number of scenarios, as it were, based on a number of possible actions by you. A series of if-then clauses, essentially. Now, of course, the forces of Fate can't predict everything, nor can they create contingency plans for every action you might take. As an Agent of Chaos, you still have the capacity to surprise them quite a lot.” the Jester informed him.  
   
“So in that vision your Iron Coin just gave me-”  
   
“It’s Fate’s most likely assumption of what you'll do. And is it something you'd likely not do, in that situation?”  
   
 _Hand a stake to Buffy when she doesn't have one, because a vampire might be nearby?_  Not really much of a question. Of course he would. “Alright, ya got me there.” Harris chuckled. “By the way, I'm kind of surprised you showed up to talk to me. Speaking of, I'm also kinda surprised you let me demonstrate as much as I did for Giles. What’s up with that?”

“You came up with a rather clever and ingenious exploit of the rules. I had to let you get away with it, just that once.” The Jester shrugged. “And it’s not as if I'm really here – or at least, not as if I'm only really here. How do you humans think straight, only being in the one place at the one time?”  
   
The blue-eyed higher being quickly shook his head, looking annoyed with himself. “Stupid question, of course. You  _ **don't**_  think straight.” He smirked. “Well, see you.” He vanished.

Xander facepalmed a moment, then rubbed his forehead. “He's worse than a physics test.”

**The Next Morning  
Sunnydale High Library**

The first thing that Xander had done the next day, at school, was head straight for the library. He needed to have a word with Giles.  
   
“Hey, G-man?” Xander walked into the room, which was, as usual, empty of other students now that the usual mad post-summer rush to acquire textbooks and stuff was over.  _Kinda weird how this place is always so deserted except for the Scooby Gang, huh. Still, I wouldn't be here if not for Slayage-related stuff myself, so who am I to throw stones?_  
   
Giles made that clucking noise of frustration Willow had pointed out last week, and looked up from old book that he had been reading from and taking notes on, it looked like. “For the love of all that is good and holy, Xander, h-how many times have I told you to-” He then saw the look on the youth’s face, instantly understanding this wasn’t a social call. “Oh dear...”  
   
Harris didn’t waste time in getting to the point. “Who became the Slayer after Kendra died?”

“Uhm...” Giles stammered. “I, uh, I don't know her name offhand. I do know she was called in Boston, where she’s currently stationed...”  
   
“Nope.” Xander said, cutting the librarian off. “Tonight she's going to be in Sunnydale, right outside the Bronze, beating the crap out of a vampire.” _And dusting it with a stake she borrowed from Buffy, which I lent to her..._  
   
“And how do you know this-” Giles quickly shut himself up, as he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Of course. The same way you knew where Buffy was in Los Angeles, and about the demon slave ring.”  
   
“Pretty much.” Xander nodded. “And FYI, I still can't tell you anything more than I’ve already told you about that, far as I know.”  
   
“Absolutely lovely.” Giles replied softly. “Well, if she's on her way here, then I can't imagine her Watcher doesn't have some knowledge of it. I'll see what I can find out.”  
   
“Alright.” Xander looked at the clock on the wall. “Yikes. If I don't wanna get detention, I need to head off to class.” He smirked. “On account of detention is always of the bad.” He left the library, fighting the urge to whistle nervously.

**Now,  
Inside The Bronze**

Xander was only half-listening to Faith's naked alligator story. He had to admit, the idea of seeing Faith completely naked sounded appealing in the abstract – hey, 18 year old guy here – but he wasn't going to voice it, not with Cordelia sitting right there next to him.  
   
She was his girlfriend, after all. Besides, he liked Cordy – most of the time. Xander knew he was many things, but that level of jerk he was not. He wasn't interested in the specifics of Faith nakedness. True, he hadn't seen Cordelia naked either...  
   
 _But soon, right?_  Part of him took that moment to say, hopefully.  
   
 _Who knows, maybe if we play our cards right!_  Libido-Xander started rubbing his mental hands gleefully.  
   
His thoughts interrupted from his ruminations by Cordelia suddenly exclaiming, “I get it!” She had a smile and a look of pleased understanding on her face.  
   
Faith looked at her, confused.

“No, Not the horny thing. Yuck! But the two Slayer thing. There was one, and then Buffy died for, like, two minutes, so then Kendra was called, and then when she died, Faith was called.”

Faith nodded.

“But then why were you called here?” Willow asked.  _The Million Dollar question._ Xander added mentally.

“Well, I wasn't. My Watcher went off to some retreat thing in England, and so I skipped out. I figured this was my chance to meet the infamous Buff and compare notes.” Buffy smiled a little at the comment. “So, B,” Faith continued, seeing Xander staring at her, “did you really use a rocket launcher one time?”  
   
“Uh, yeah...” The Summers girl leaned forward a little. “Actually, it’s a funny story. See, there was this big blue demon...”  
   
Xander mentally tuned Buffy out as he thought,  _Faith’s Watcher is at a 'retreat', my ass. This is the forces of Fate we're talking about! If they were behind Acathla, the Judge, the Master killing Buffy and everything else, then they didn't just send Faith here because her Watcher decided to take a vacation...something bigger is going on. But what?_  
   
Once again, Xander wished he could tell someone else about this – all of it, too, not just bits and pieces like he had with Giles. This kind of deep-level thinking just...it wasn't him. Way too convoluted. Xander knew himself for what he was, and that he much preferred the ‘see vampire, stake vampire, celebrate the fact that there’s one less bloodsucker in the world’ school of thought.

Nonetheless Xander listened carefully when Oz brought up werewolves, and sighed in relief when Faith said she was cool with them. Having the new Slayer gunning for Oz – his friend – would not have been a good thing.  
   
“The vamps, though, they better get their asses to DEFCON ONE!” Faith pointed at Buffy. “Cause you and I are gonna have fun, you know, Watcher-less and fancy-free.” She smiled just a little too vicariously.  
   
“Watcher-less?” Buffy looked confused. “What do you mean?”  
   
“Didn't yours go to England too?”  
   
Xander just kept staring at the new Slayer in town, as Buffy answered in the negative.  _What are you trying to hide from us, Faith? I get the feeling it’s something...not good..._

**Sunnydale High Library**

It didn't take long for all of them – minus Cordelia, who decided to go home – to relocate to the School Library, where, surprise surprise, Giles still was. The explanation of the situation went quickly, and Xander noticed a strange...expression on Giles' face as the details were relayed to him...

“There's a Watchers' retreat every year in the Cotswolds.” Giles said softly, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “It's a lovely spot. It's very s-serene.” Xander, to his own surprise, found himself paying absolute attention to Giles. “There's horse riding and hiking and punting,” he smiled, “and lectures and discussions. It-i-it's... it's a great honor to be invited.” Then his face fell a moment. “Or so I'm told.” His bitterness wouldn't have been out of place in a cup of black coffee.

Faith waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, its boring. Way too stuffy for a guy like you.”

Buffy bit back a laugh. “Um, maybe I should introduce you again. Faith, this is  _Giles_.”

Willow smirked as Faith replied. “I see him. If I'd've known they came *that* young and cute, I would've requested a transfer.”

Unsurprisingly, Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them. Gagging a little, Buffy asked, “Raise your hand if 'ew'.” she raised her hand.

Without any hesitation, Xander raised his. A moment later, Willow and Oz did, though with slight hesitation.

Chuckling, “Well, um, uh, leaving aside for a moment my, uh, youth and beauty,” Giles went over to the copier and grabbed the newspaper. “I'd-I'd say it was, um, fortuitous that Faith arrived when she did.” He handed it to Buffy. Willow 'Aha!'d' loudly, raising her finger. Everyone else looked at her.

Willow lowered her head a moment. “Sorry. I just meant...aha! There's big evil brewin'. You'll never be bored here, Faith. 'Cause this is Sunnydale, home of the big brewin' evil.”

Giles shook his head. “Yes, well, I don't know how big an evil it is, but, uh, two people have disappeared from the Sunset Ridge District.”  
   
“Well, I'm good for patrolling.” Buffy said. “Later-ish, though. I promised Mom I'd be home for dinner.” She handed the paper to Xander. He looked over the article, and then handed it off to Willow. “To which you're also invited, of course, dinner with us.” Buffy added to Faith.  
   
“Dyin' to meet the fam. I'm in.”  
   
Again, Xander stared at Faith uneasily.  _Does anyone actually talk like that?_  
   
The group eventually headed out after some discussion of Buffy's mom (the Slayer’s Health Science exam had been completed months ago), but Xander ditched Willow, Faith and Oz as he hung around outside the library, while Buffy talked with Giles.  _She's jealous. Just a little._  He would need to keep an eye on that.

Harris suddenly felt...exhausted. He wondered if there was a way he could keep notes on all this, without the Jester counting it as a violation of his rules. It was hard to mentally keep track of everything he needed to keep track of, and...he wasn't used to acting like this. Xander didn't consider himself stupid, most of his grades aside, but he wasn't a genius either, not even close. What wouldn’t I give for an eidetic memory right now...  
   
Once Buffy left, Xander walked in. “So, what did you find out about Faith, after I told you she was coming?”  
   
Giles cleaned his glasses again, and then put them back on. “Faith's Watcher isn't at the retreat in the Cotswolds, I’m afraid. Indeed, she's not on a retreat anywhere. Rather, she's...she's quite dead.” He sat down at the table, letting out a shallow exhalation.  
   
“From your tone...I’m guessing, you knew her?” Xander asked carefully.  
   
“Not personally.” Giles shook his head. “My father knew Professor Dormer when he was my age, though. Worked on a few projects with her, which is how I know she was a highly respected Harvard academic.”

“And Faith lied about her being on that retreat – on account of she was actually dead.”  _Now things make more sense...sort of...no, not really._ “Is it possible the new Slay-gal didn't know? Or...do ya think she did it?”  
   
“I don't think it’s possible she didn't know, or else she wouldn't have lied about the retreat. And no, fortunately, I don't think Faith killed her Watcher...although Slayers have, in the past, done that under certain circumstances...” Giles said softly.  
   
“So, then, how can you be so sure Faith didn’t do it?”  
   
“Because her killer carved his name into Professor Dormer’s body.” Giles said after a moment. “Kakistos.”

“Kakis-who?” Xander said it again, wrapping his tongue around the foreign word. “Kakistos. Greek?”

“Ancient Greek for Worst of the Worst.” Giles replied, then looked at Xander. “How did you-”

“Hey, c’mon, G-dawg.” Xander said, smirking as Giles immediately glared at him. _Note to self...never use 'dawg' again._ “I've been hanging around here ever since Buffy came home. You’ve taught me a little Latin and I’ve picked up some other things, here and there. Some of it has sunk in.”

“Despite your best efforts, yes?” Giles smiled, then his expression grew serious again.

“Will you tell Buffy?”

“I will tomorrow. Not sure how we're to handle this...but I doubt Kakistos is dead, or else she wouldn't be running.”

“She's running?”

“She gave all the impressions of being on the run just now, yes. Why else do you think she described me as ‘young and cute’? Classic misdirection,” Giles explained. “Frankly, I suspect the girl's been running from a lot of things in her life.”

“So...Kakistos would be coming here, after her, then?”

“Almost certainly. He's not the type to leave things unfinished.”

“How bad?” Xander was now definitely starting to grow worried about all this.  
   
“He's older, and arguably worse, than the Master, and definitely worse than Angelus, Drusilla or Spike. He does, as an advantage, not attract fanatics the way the Master did, though he'll most likely have some minions when he arrives.” 

Xander listened...and had an idea...wondered why he had never thought of it before.

**Author's Note:**  You'll find out more about what happens with Kakistos next episode – there's not much more involvement with Xander that I can really cover in this chapter.


	5. Episode 4: In Which Fate Jumps the Shark

**Disclaimer:** Fourth Verse, same as the First. Now put me in a plane so I can put them in a Hearse. Hellsing abridged references for the win! Don't own Hellsing, btw. And I don't own the Princess Bride, Braveheart or the Die Hard series either. Goes without saying that I also own nothing related to Buffy the Vampire Slayer...

**Author's Note:** It's a fairly short chapter, yes, but mostly because episode #4 in this season doesn't offer that many opportunities for change. The big arc event in this episode is Angel's return.

Thanks to Starway Man, for beta-reading this chapter. Check out his fics, including his latest one, Here is Gone, already here, on a Computer Near You. Also thanks to my girlfriend, for being my other beta, and putting up with me writing fanfiction.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 4: In Which Fate Jumps The Shark

**October 15th, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Xander didn't bother trying to be sneaky about it as he put an arm around Cordelia, and then he lightly touched her breast. He didn't need to. This was hardly the first time he'd had an occasion to do so, when they two of them were sitting on the couch in Cordelia's personal TV room, in front of the forty-inch flat-screen television. Exactly like they were doing right now, in fact.

When their dates didn't involve going out – usually to the Bronze, or the occasional restaurant meal Xander could barely afford – the young couple always went to Cordy's house on Parkview Crescent. After the one time Cordelia had come over to her boyfriend's place, they'd both agreed the experience didn't bear repeating. Mr. Harris thinking Cordelia was a hooker, and trying to hire her services, was just the beginning of the disaster **_that_** night had been.

Still, life wasn't all bad these days. The new Slayer, Faith, had settled into Sunnydale after the ancient vampire named Kakistos had been killed by both of the Chosen working together – thanks to Xander arranging for Giles to force Faith to confess what had really happened back in Boston. Curiously, after using the Iron Coin and seeing what sort of roach-house the junior Slayer had chosen to live in – the Sunnydale Motor Inn was a place even _**he**_ would never stay in, Xander had thought to himself – Giles had arranged for a stipend with the Council, for Faith to be able to afford her own place. She couldn't live with her new Watcher because of appearances at the high school, but the dark-haired Chosen One's living arrangements were now a million times better than they would have been, had the Jester not done what he did with Xander during the summer.

The agents of Fate were _**not**_ pleased at this disruption to their plans, granted, but they could do nothing to undo what had taken place without drawing the attention of certain higher powers. Powers that would do unspeakable things to them, in retaliation for directly violating the cosmic rules that way. Besides, Fate was too orderly minded to break the rules like that.

Feeling her boyfriend touching her, Cordelia looked away from the television for a moment and smiled just a little, then she returned her attention back to the idiot box. Ever since those zombies had invaded Buffy's house a while back, looking for that way-ugly mask, the fashion queen  had been permitting Harris to take liberties that, last year, she would have never allowed. Well, they **_had_** been together for nearly a year by this point; unofficially, anyway, with their first wild kiss in the Summers family's basement. The Chase girl had to admit, strange as it was to contemplate; this was the longest relationship she'd ever been in, so far. And that she had definitely started developing feelings for Xander, despite the odds against it.

Why else would she have watched movies like _Braveheart_ and the _Die Hard_ series, just because her boyfriend had wanted to see them?

Tonight Xander had convinced her to watch a movie called  _The Princess Bride_ , and Cordelia had to admit; it was somewhat amusing, in its own way. She'd already made sure he wouldn't tell anyone about the fact that she had quite the movie collection at home, and was really quite the movie buff. The cheerleader smiled again, recalling Xander's exaggerated (for dramatic effect) reaction to her threat. It had been priceless. No making out for a month, if he told anyone her secret.

_Good thing I won't ever have to actually carry it out._ Cordelia thought to herself. She wasn't sure she had the willpower to follow through on her threat, these days. Well, she did, but Cordelia knew she wouldn't have enjoyed the experience any more than Xander would have.

“Have fun storming the castle!”

“Think it will work?”

“It would take a miracle.”

“Buh-bye!”

Cordelia smiled, and moved a little closer to her loveable doofus as he said the words along with the movie characters. _Unbelievable! If Harmony was here to see this right now, her head would probably explode from the shock factor...my God. Six months ago, who would have ever thought that I'd **willingly**_ watch a movie like this?

Xander leaned in and gave his significant other a quick, light kiss before turning his attention back to the television screen. He loved this movie. It was a classic, and so quote-able. For a long time – ever since he'd found out about vampires, actually – he'd been dying for the opportunity to say 'I am not left handed!' to a vampire. Unfortunately, so far, none had obliged. 

Eventually the movie ended, although Xander and Cordelia were far too busy making out to realize that, or even to turn the TV off for several minutes. Things quickly started heating up as Cordelia ended up flat on her back on the couch, and Xander moved on top of her, his tongue in her mouth as they kissed. Both of them started moaning passionately, as the make-out session threatened to turn into something more. But Cordelia wasn't ready for them to go that far yet, and Xander knew it – despite the throbbing bulge in his groin, which, much to his embarrassment, was totally tenting his pants.

Finally, Harris got off of his girlfriend and Cordelia picked up the remote control, turning off the TV. By mutual understanding, they didn't talk about how close they had been to disappearing inside the Chase girl's bedroom for the night; both teens knew that the sex had to wait for when they were **_both_** ready for it.

“Well?” Xander asked Cordelia, finally getting his labored breath under control. “What did you think of the movie?”

“I liked it, I guess.” Cordelia admitted, getting her own breathing down to normal levels. “But no quoting it endlessly.” She added with a smile. “I'm sure you could have recited every single line, the way you were carrying on."

“Oh, come on!” Xander protested, then smiled. “Not **_all_** of it. Just the good scenes. 'But only slightly less well known is this! Never go in against a-”

Cordelia shut him up by putting a finger against his lips. She waited a moment, then took it away. “Why do you act like this?” the former May Queen suddenly asked, in a more serious tone of voice.

“Act like what?” Instinctively, Xander's thoughts went to the Iron Coin. Had he done something relating to that, what with the way he'd been behaving since summer vacation -?

“Like a dork. A goof.” Cordelia smiled a little. “I mean, don't get me wrong; I do like you when you're like that. Sort of. Sometimes. It's kind of endearing, in its own pathetic way.” She shook her head. “But it's not who you really are. Xander, you're not an idiot – on account of an idiot couldn't keep up with me during our verbal sparring matches, the way you do. And, I mean, just to use the most recent example, those holy-water squirt guns. They were a big help with those vampires Faith and Buffy handled! What was that freakazoid's name again? The one with the hoof-hands? Kakastones?”

“Kakistos.” Xander corrected her, smiling over how Cordy had mangled the vampire's name.

“Whatever.” Cordelia said dismissively, waving a hand. “But my point still stands. You're not an idiot, but you act like one. Way too often, too.”

“Gee, thanks Cordy. You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.” Harris smirked.

“See!” Cordelia insisted. “There it is again. Damn it, Xander, _why_ do you always do that? I thought we'd been together long enough, we knew each other well enough that you didn't have to act the clown any more; at least not in private with me. So why do you still act like a horse's ass, when we're alone like this?”

Xander didn't say anything for a moment, and his face looked, well, pensive. After a few seconds, he said softly, “Well...you know what my home life is like, sweetheart. Better than anyone else, including and especially Willow. Being...un-serious? It's been my thing, my coping mechanism, for a helluva long time...it's easier than thinking about and dealing with reality. And habit's a funny thing, I guess. I'm sorry, Cor, but it's simply not as easy as just flipping off a switch when we're alone together."

_Yeah, I suppose._ Cordelia thought to herself, considering her own habit of being subservient to her parents whenever they talked down to her. _A bad habit's a hard thing to break,no doubt about it._

"And ever since sophomore year...well, the stuff we've had to deal with, it makes my home life look...uh, ****_domestic_ by comparison." Xander went on. "I mean, think about it. We're living on a Hellmouth. A gateway to hell. We go through hell every night we fight against the monsters – demons, and vampires, and...I mean...everything.” He took Cordelia's hand and squeezed it softly. The nightmares. They both had them...and dealing with them was never easy. “Ya wanna know the truth, Cor? I'm amazed, sometimes, that after everything we've gone through, we're still sane...and that we're still alive.”

Cordelia squeezed his hand, before Xander squeezed it back. She then said determinedly, “We'll live through this, dweeb. Graduation isn't all that far away, and after high school's over? I swear, we're getting out of this town straightaway. Go live somewhere safe.”

"WHAT?" Xander looked freaked, just as she'd expected him to be. "But what about-"

"Willow? After we graduate, she's gonna be heading off to some prestigious college like, like Harvard, or Oxford, or whatever. What the hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she's already started getting application forms from every university with a stamp." Cordelia said cynically. "Oz? He'll follow his girlfriend wherever she goes, we both know that. And as for your precious Buffy? Just my opinion, but she doesn't need you any more."

"Yes she does!" Xander protested automatically.

"Does she?" Cordelia asked sharply. "Last night when you volunteered to patrol with her and Faith, the way Buffy blew you off? It spoke volumes to me. And if it keeps up, my money says that by the time we graduate, the only thing the Blonde Wonder will think you're useful for is fetching the snacks during the library meetings. If that."

Xander remained silent for a few moments, feeling the Iron Coin in his pocket. He suddenly had a burning desire to bring it out and test his girlfriend's theory, but he managed to restrain himself just in time. The Jester's warnings of what would happen if he tried something like that were burned into his memory. "And you, Cor? What did you have in mind, apart from disappearing out of Sunnydale with me, once high school's over?"

Cordelia shrugged. "I'm not sure. Get inducted into some hugely expensive sorority somewhere far away from here, I suppose."

Xander shook his head. “Somewhere where we can have a normal life, you mean? Demons and vampires do exist in places other than Sunnydale, honey.”

“Sure, but that doesn't mean we have to live in a town with a big glowing neon sign that says 'eat here' for the monsters.” Cordelia pointed out. "Well, I don't, anyway!"

_Sweet Odin, she's really serious about this. My girlfriend wants to get out of this hell-hole for good, as soon as she can, and take me with her. But leaving Sunnydale...I mean....can I really do that? With the Iron Coin..._ Harris honestly didn't know if that was an option for him, nowadays. He had a responsibility to use that thing wisely, for his friends' sake if nothing else. And he doubted it would be that simple, that leaving the Hellmouth with Cordelia would get them away from this sort of life. The universe – or Fate, maybe – had a perverse, sick sense of humor. And as long as he had the Iron Coin, Xander suspected the agents of Order would never stop trying to get it away from him.

Xander had to admit, right now he didn't know...the Iron Coin, and everything he had to do with it. Cordelia. Which would he really pick?

**October 16th, 1998  
Sunnydale High Library**

“Giles.”

The British Watcher looked up from his book. Xander handed him a piece of paper, which the librarian quickly looked over. Ah. The Latin sentences he'd assigned to the boy to translate. He'd been making progress, though slowly, given everything else he'd had to do. Xander was determined, and hardly stupid, but neither did he have a particular gift for languages. Good Lord, just like everyone else around here, sometimes the boy didn't speak English – he spoke Californian, instead!

It had been but a few months, though, since the Latin studies had begun. Xander went over to one of the shelves as Giles looked over the paper. _Only a few mistakes, excellent._

“This is fairly good work, Xander. Though, here on the second one? _Amavistis_ is the second person plural, not the-” Rupert suddenly noticed Xander was completely ignoring him as he looked over the shelf, checking the spines. “Err, are you looking for something in particular?” Giles set the paper down and came around the desk.

“Acathla. That hell dimension he was supposed to suck the entire world into?” Harris said musingly.

“Yes, what about it?” Giles watched as Xander pulled a book off the shelf.

“Any chance anyone could come back from there? Say, just as an example, Angel?”

“What? I don't – there's been no record of, of anyone returning from such a demon dimension...” Giles replied slowly, taking off his glasses to clean them. "Why, um, why did you use that particular example, if I may ask?"

Xander sighed. “Well, that's the thing, Giles – Angel's back. Or, at least, he'll be back in about five days, in the woods. Fighting Buffy.”

Giles nearly dropped his glasses, catching them with his other hand. “Do I need to ask if you're sure?”

“You just did. And I am.” Xander nodded.

_Bloody hell._ Giles had to take a moment to bury the bad memories of that night he'd been tortured by a creature he'd once called ally, if not friend, but by that point had possessed not even an ounce of humanity in him. Forcing himself to focus, Giles asked, “Is it Angel who will be fighting Buffy? Or...Angelus?”

“There's not as much of a difference as I'd like.” Xander replied softly, thinking of the vision he'd had of Buffy's boyfriend – after flipping the Iron Coin and saying the senior Slayer's name. “But we both know Willow did the spell, and the Buffster said Captain Forehead had already gotten his soul back when she shoved that sword through his guts and sent him downstairs in order to save the world. So unless he got perfectly happy in Hell, Deadboy still has his soul. More's the pity.”

“But he will be fighting Buffy, you say?”

“Yeah...” Xander trailed off for a moment. “The guy's gonna be like an animal, when they do. He'll be...feral, I guess is the word I'm lookin' for. But more importantly...Buffy's gonna win that fight. And...I think he'll recover. Buffy will do everything she can to try to make sure of that, if I know her.”

“Yes...I suppose so. And that's hardly surprising – she never could think straight, where that damned vampire was concerned..." Giles tried to keep the growl out of his voice. "Still...from what I know of the demon dimension Acathla was associated with, it's a, uh, a realm of eternal torment...and time moves differently in such places, than it does here in our plane of existence. Angel, he-he could have been there for centuries, from his point of view...and, um, under such conditions, he'd be...well, I can't even imagine. Feral at the very least, as you, ah, said. So what do you propose we do?” Giles asked.

“Nothing. At least, not until Buffy finds him.”

Giles couldn't believe what he'd just heard. _Nothing? Why the devil should we do that?_ “Why do you-”

“Because if anyone can make sure that Overbite recovers from whatever's happened to him, it's Buffy. And besides, I don't think he'll come back on his own, Giles. You don't just check out of Hell like it's some sort of damn hotel, right? He'll have had help. From someone. Until we know why...” _Until I can figure out what Fate has in mind for him... Or Chaos, maybe. I wouldn't put it past the Jester, or his buds, to mess around and do something like this just for their own amusement._

“This is unusually thoughtful for you, Xander...and, um, somewhat out of character for you as well, I-I must say.” Giles said hesitantly. “Given your past feelings for Angel, I'd have thought you'd advocate seeking him out and dusting him, before Buffy ever found out he came back. So why are you-”

“These days, I have to think about things...real carefully.” Xander admitted softly. “Knowing what I know – and knowing I'm going to know things that I can't explain to you, or anyone. I wish I could tell ya how I know these things, Giles, believe me. This isn't...it's really not easy. But you know why I can't say anything to anyone, apart from you.”

After all these months, Giles just nodded and accepted that. He hadn't gotten anywhere figuring out what kind of geas Xander was under, but as long as the boy's advance information continued to be legitimate, then the Watcher could live with that. “Alright, then what's the plan...for after Buffy wins her battle against Angel?”

**October 21st, 1998  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

Buffy Anne Summers had not had a good week so far.

For one thing, her new boyfriend Scott Hope had freaked her out by gifting her with a claddagh ring; the same type of ring Angel had given to her on her 17th birthday. For another, one of Scott's friends, Pete Clarner, had turned out to be a murderer; not to mention he'd been pulling a Jekyll and Hyde routine, killing his girlfriend Debbie Foley as well as a another student named Jeff Orkin. It was a good thing she and Xander had managed to stop Pete from killing the school counselor, Stephen Platt, but that was about the only good thing in a week filled with violence and mayhem.

As well as the reappearance of her former undead boyfriend.

Xander watched from the shadows as Buffy chained Angel to the wall, closing the manacles around the unconscious vampire's wrists. Finally, she was done; the vampire was held securely to the wall, unable to move far from his position. He watched as the blonde Slayer turned and headed for the door, before Xander stepped into view.

“So tell me. Were you planning on keeping this a secret?” Harris asked, gesturing towards the unconscious vampire.

Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin. “Xander! How did you – hey, were you **_following_** me?”

“No. Didn't need to. Already knew Angel was back.” Xander said carefully. He wasn't sure if the Jester would let him get away with saying that; but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“What!? How did you – _**why didn't you tell me?!**_ ” Buffy screamed at him. It was a good thing the mansion was so far away from the nearest neighbors, her voice was that loud and shrill.

“Would you have believed me if I had? Good Godfrey Cambridge, Buff, I didn't believe it myself, even when I saw it with my own eyes. To be honest, I was kinda hoping it was all a hallucination or something. Especially after Giles told me no one's ever come back from a demon dimension!” Xander said in annoyance. _My God, maybe Cordy had a point last week about how Buffy's started acting around me..._

“You told Giles? Who else did you tell?! Willow? My Mom? Did someone send out a memo?!” Buffy yelled angrily.

“No. I told Giles because he's the expert on this kind of things. But FYI, I say you **_should_** tell Willow, Oz, your mother, and everyone else. Including and maybe especially Faith, Buff. On account of you have a feral vampire chained up, not five feet away from us! Deadboy is back, after killing people for four months and getting within a hair's breath of destroying the entire freaking world. I mean, forgive me if I'm not dancing a jig or whatever, that Ms. Calendar's murderer has returned into our lives!”

“He's not – he has a soul!” Buffy said automatically, causing Xander to roll his eyes at hearing that old excuse again.

“And that's the only reason why I'm not yelling at you to stake him – right here, right now. But you can't keep this a secret, Buffy. I can tell you still love him, despite being an item with Scott now. I get that-” Harris paused, and then shook his head. “No, actually, I don't understand it at all, but I have no choice but to accept the fact that you do. You're my friend, and there **_are_** times when I simply trust you to do what's right, Slay-gal. But this is too big for blind faith, Buffy. The truth's going to come out eventually – and when it does...” Xander shook his head again. “Do you **_really_** think hiding the fact that your killer ex has come back from Hell is going to turn out well? Faith finds out that you're hiding a vampire – her immediate reaction is going to be to kill Angel first, and ask questions like never. You've got an entire Hellmouth to cover, and you can't do it while hiding something like this from your friends – or from the other Slayer who's going to be watching your back on patrol, and in the big fights.”

Ignoring the stubborn look on Buffy's face, Xander turned to head out of the mansion. “I know you won't just dust the guy and be done with it, as much as I'd like to see that happen – and despite personal feelings, I promise I won't try to dust him either. Look, Buff, it's up to you; I'm not going to tell anyone else about this, and I don't think Giles will either, even though I can't speak for him.” Harris sounded almost...disappointed as he stopped at the front doors of the abandoned mansion. "Just please, keep in mind what I said. Trust has gotta be a two-way street, and once people find out you weren't willing to trust them with this particular secret – well, what makes you think they'll trust **_you_** with any secrets of their own, in the future?"

It was simply too bad how Buffy was in no mood to listen to her male friend, as Xander left and she settled down to watch her unconscious vampire lover twitching and jerking in his sleep, obviously reliving his experiences in the hell dimension to which she had sent him.

It was also too bad how Buffy started making plans to talk to Giles as soon as she could, to find out exactly how Xander had known Angel had come back before she did...


	6. Episode 5: No Answers

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Thanks to Starway Man and my girlfriend for beta-reading this.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 5: No Answers

**October 22nd, 1998  
Library, Sunnydale High School**

Xander was alone on the mezzanine level of the Sunnydale High library, checking out a theory within the privacy of the stacks.

Back in the beginning, he had of course investigated  the contents of Giles's library; which had, predictably, no books about The Jester, or the Hydra, or Fate and Chaos – at least not in the senses that the Jester had outlined to him. No books containing information in any language Xander could read, anyway. Granted that Harris had, at some point along the way, found out about a group of powerful beings on the side of 'good' known only as 'The Powers that Be'; a rather obscure collection of higher beings believed to be responsible for activating the next Slayer as needed, and the information source of many seers, particularly those that provided visions for Champions on the side of Light.

But such things had been more or less incidental; Xander had figured looking up Fate or Chaos, more generally, might get him somewhere. So far he hadn't found anything useful, but then he'd only just started on the books written in Latin.

Xander didn't look up from the latest book he was checking out when he heard the double doors open, but he did when he realized that the new arrival was Buffy.

“Giles?” Harris heard Buffy say, her voice unusually tense. “We need to talk.”

“Alright then.” Giles said softly. Xander heard a book close. Then the Watcher said, “What do we need to talk about? What's wrong?”

“Xander! That's what's wrong. He told me...Giles, how the heck did the two of you know that Angel was back before I did? **_And why the hell didn't either of you tell me!?”_**

_Gee, Buff,_ Xander thought to himself acidly,  _just announce it to the whole school while you're at it, why don't you?_  He could easily imagine Giles cleaning his glasses yet again as he provided the answer.

“I'm not entirely sure  _how_  Xander knew that Angel was back, Buffy. He just did. He knew that in five days, you would fight and end up subduing a feral Angel.”

“So, what, he just came up to you and told you that?!” Buffy exploded furiously.

“Essentially, yes.”

Buffy didn't say anything for a moment, and Xander smiled to himself as he accurately imagined the blonde Slayer gaping in surprise at Rupert's answer. Finally, though, she managed to speak up again, “And you just believed him?”

“Of course. He's developed a bit of a track record about being right about such things, you see.”

“What are you talking about? 'Cause Xander's opinion is wrong, nearly every time he opens his-”

“That's not true, and you know it full well, Buffy.” Giles reprimanded her even as Xander scowled up in the stacks. “You're upset. I understand that.” The British man paused for a moment. “I'm not sure if the boy's told you, but Xander knew that you were in Los Angeles after you...left town, back in May. He knew where you were, and told me he was going there to bring you home. I had nothing to do with him going, by the way; he chose to do that all on his own. Xander also knew about the demons running that teen shelter. He likewise knew that Faith was going to arrive when she did, which is how I had the opportunity to learn beforehand what had happened with her Watcher and Kakistos.”

“What?!” Buffy sputtered a moment. “But how is that – how did he-?”

“I haven't the slightest idea, Buffy.” Giles admitted.

_Oh, come on, Hydra!_  Harris thought to himself, _I can't imagine this conversation is something I could tell Buffy – or anyone else. So how come the G-man can do it?_  There was also the fact that Xander just plain didn't like how Giles was telling Buffy all of this. It would make everything much harder in the future... even though Harris had known that it was a given that Giles would say something to someone, eventually. Still...

“But as I said, Xander has a proven track record regarding these things, nowadays.” Giles continued. “And, incidentally, his counsel is the only reason why I didn't go out into those woods with that dart-gun over there, so I could find Angel, incapacitate him, and then stake him before you ever even knew he'd come back.”

"You what?" Buffy now sounded horrified. "But Giles..."

“But what? Do you even remember what his, his alter ego did? To me, to Jenny?” Giles's voice now sounded ice-cold, and Xander didn't enjoy imagining what the expression on the British man's face was like.

“Of course I remember. But it's exactly like you just said!” Buffy argued. “It wasn't Angel who did all that. It was Angelus!”

“Buffy, I'll only say this once. Not everyone is as capable of differentiating between the two of them as you are.” Giles pointed out softly. “At least not on a, a gut level. I for one still have nightmares about that soulless creature leering at me, seeing Angel's face as Angelus gleefully tortured me into giving up the information he wanted to activate Acathla, a-and destroy the world. In case you didn't know, that vampire broke every finger on my left hand, he nearly severed the ligaments on both my legs, and had Spike of all people not intervened, he would have brought out a chainsaw and cut off my-”

“Giles, please – stop. Don't, I-I can't, I-I-I don't want to hear this,” Buffy's voice definitely had a begging quality to it now.

“As you wish. But to return to our previous topic – apparently, Xander knew that Angel would return, and even speculated that he must have had help in order to escape that hell dimension to which you sent him. Something I'm rather inclined to agree with, after having had nearly a week to think about it. And as I said, Buffy, the boy's insistence that I let you deal with Angel was the only reason I didn't go hunting for him when I first found out the big news. Why I didn't give that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned creature payback in kind, for everything he did to me that night.”

Xander sensed how Buffy was trying to compose herself, and accurately guessed that she hadn't expected the conversation to have proceeded this way. Then he heard the blonde girl ask, “Who else knows about this? I mean, Xander mentioned that he hadn't told anyone about Angel except you, even if I'm not sure I can actually believe him...”

Giles shrugged. “It's true enough, a-as far as I know; the only people who've learned about Angel having returned so far are you, Xander and myself. I must admit that I have serious misgivings about not telling Faith, to be completely frank with you; but again, I'm willing to trust you in keeping his existence a secret from her. For now, anyway.”

“But why would Xander-? He  _ **hates**_  Angel!” Buffy sounded absolutely befuddled and bewildered after hearing that bit of news.

Xander rolled his eyes and came out from behind the shelves. “Yeah, more or less.” He said as he came down the stairs from the mezzanine level, and both Giles and Buffy turned to face him. “But I also know some pretty important things, Buff: one, Dead Boy can be helpful around here, at least as long as he's all soul-having and stays as miserable as hell. And two, for some reason that doesn't – and never will – make any sense to me, you care about him. No, let's be honest; you love the guy in the 'till death do us part' sort of way. And as much as I don't like that undead asshole, and as much as I don't like you keeping his return a secret from the rest of the gang; the simple fact is that I trust you, Buffy. We've been friends long enough for me to accept that you know what you're doing, where that bloodsucker's concerned.”  _Well, sometimes, anyway._

Unfortunately, Buffy was in no mood to think rationally about what Xander had just said. “Is it true? That you knew all those things, before they happened?” Xander nodded. “So what else do you know?” She demanded.

“At the moment?” Xander shrugged. “Nothing at all, in terms of future knowledge. Well, I do know that it's very, very likely that keeping Angel's return a secret is going to end very, very badly; but then, I already told you that.”

“ _How_  did you know all those things?” Buffy demanded in her best 'I am Slayer, answer me!' tone of voice.

“An all-powerful agent of Chaos called the Jester gave me his magic Iron Coin that allows me to get a sneak peak about what Fate is planning for people.” And, exactly as Xander expected, not a single word of that came out. His mouth opened, his lips moved, but no words could be heard.

“Xander! What the hell!? Don't you play games-” Buffy started to rant, it appeared that her temper was about to hit boiling point.

Giles cut Buffy off at once. “He's not playing anything, Buffy. Xander literally can't tell you; this also happened when he tried to explain to me how he knew that you were in Los Angeles, a-and about those demons you encountered there.” Giles took his glasses off and started to clean them. The nervous habit was one that had been only exacerbated during his time on the Hellmouth. “I rather suspect he's under some kind of geas or magical compulsion, preventing him from speaking about how he knows what he knows. Whoever or whatever decided to give him this sort of advance knowledge, it clearly wants to protect its identity from the rest of us.”

“Actually, he just wants to make it more fun for himself by making it harder for me.” Xander tried to say. Unfortunately, he couldn't manage to vocalize any of that either. Harris paused and then said, “Look, Buffy, I wish I could tell you everything, I really do. I wish I could tell all of you about what's happened to me. But I can't. So you're just gonna have to trust me on this, the same way I have to trust you about Angel. It really is that simple, whether you like it or not.”

Buffy looked at him, and opened her mouth several times, but said nothing... thanks to the sheer sincerity in Xander's voice. In her view, Xander Harris was, even at the best of times, usually an unserious person. It was his thing, his way of coping with the hell that they went through every day and every night living on the Hellmouth. But now...

Buffy looked Xander directly in the eye, and nodded once. There were no words exchanged...and Xander could tell that even though the Slayer didn't like this situation, she knew she'd just have to deal somehow. Trust was – had to be – a two-way street, after all. But then the blonde girl said, “So, does that mean you want me to keep all this a secret? You want me to lie to Willow, and Oz, and even Cordelia about what's going on with you nowadays?”

“Yeah,” Xander said with a loud sigh. “I mean, I've thought about it; but what do you think is gonna happen once the rest of the gang finds out about this? They'll just look at me the same way you're looking at me right now, Buff. Like I'm some kinda freak. And I'd rather not see that look on my best friend's face, or my girlfriend's face either, for as long as I possibly can. Besides, there's nothing they could do to help me deal with this, anymore than you and Giles can. And yeah, I'm sure they'll find out the truth eventually; but I prefer for it to be later rather than sooner. Just like the situation with you and Dead Boy, now that I come to think of it...”

**October 23rd, 1998  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

It was time to flip the coin again. Time to figure out what Fate had in store for his friends, in the weeks and months ahead.

And to wait for the other shoe to drop.

So far, Xander felt, he hadn't effected that much real change – sure, he'd brought Buffy home earlier, he'd gotten Faith into better housing, he'd confronted Giles and Buffy about Angel... but still, the broader outcomes of what he'd seen created by Fate had nonetheless taken place as he'd seen them. Which was, in part, because there wasn't as much for him to change just yet.

Over the past three months, though, Xander  _had_  screwed up Fate's plans, even if it was just a little. He had definitely changed the course of some predestined events, which had the potential to snowball into larger changes. Xander had no idea if Fate had noticed, or even if it cared, but he doubted that his luck was so good that he'd be ignored by the agents of Fate for very much longer. Still, for the life of him...without any ability to know more about the powers of Fate – or even, really, the powers of Chaos – Harris had no idea where or when or how they'd come at him. Fate couldn't control him...so perhaps they'd try to control the people around him...even if he had the Iron Coin, and could tell if Fate was going to get up to something in their lives. But then...Xander to admit, he had no idea about what other methods Fate might have at its disposal to enforce its plans.

And what were those plans? Why did Fate decide that this was supposed to happen, and not that, or vice-versa? What larger goal could have been served by Buffy dying, for example, down in the Master's cave eighteen months ago? On a very basic level, though, the answer to those questions didn't really matter to the male teen. If Fate was going to fuck around with him, and his friends...Xander knew he'd do whatever it took to protect his friends from whatever Fate threw at them.

He took a breath and flipped the coin. “Buffy Summers.” He saw...nothing. Both comforting...and worrying. Harris didn't know what was coming, but whatever it was, this meant that it wasn't going to be the work of Fate...which meant that it was probably – okay, possibly – not going to be as big a deal as Overbite's return into their lives. Shrugging, Xander then flipped the Iron Coin again. “Faith Lehane.”

The vision instantly tore through the young man's mind like a freight train.

_A woman...all refinement and tea and ambition. A glove, metal, ancient, something that fit all the way up to the elbow, spines around the bottom...no, they looked more like spikes or prongs. The woman...Faith watching in horrified disbelief as the unknown woman put the glove on, they were standing in what looked like the abandoned mansion Buffy had set Angel up in._

_“Faith.” The woman said, “You're an idiot.” Lightning then flew out from the glove...as the woman released a mad laugh of triumph._

Xander staggered back, and nearly fell over. That vision...the sheer intensity of it...it had been more powerful than any other he'd ever had. Apart from that first one, way back when he'd first gotten the Iron Coin.

That woman had definitely had a British accent...and the way she'd carried herself, all prim and proper and wearing a  _cardigan_  of all things, in southern California? It almost screamed 'Watcher' to him.  _I thought they were all stuffy old guys, like Giles, or that Merrick person Buffy mentioned...instead, they also seem to come in the female and psychotic variety..._  Xander laughed just a little at that thought. He made a mental note to calm down, as he sounded almost hysterical; and to keep an eye out for the bad guy dressed in good guy clothing.

Taking another deep breath, Xander flipped the coin again. “Cordelia Chase.” Nothing. “Rupert Giles.” Nothing. “Daniel Osbourne.” Nothing, again. “Joyce Summers.” A whole lot of nothing. Harris sighed, anticipating nothing but more of the same as he said the final name on his list.

“Willow Rosenberg.”

This time, Xander  _ **did**_  fall down once that vision had finished blasting through his mind, he was unable to stay upright even though he tried to grab onto the back of his desk chair.

“What the hell?!” Xander yelled at the Iron Coin, which had likewise fallen to the floor. He quickly leaned over to grab the coin, which he pocketed, still shaking his head. What he had seen...the very  **idea**  of kissing Willow like that, within her bedroom...

Xander loved Willow, of course, as his best, and oldest friend. As a sister even, almost. But making out with her, like he'd seen in that vision the Iron Coin had granted him...frankly, it made Harris feel more than a little bit nauseous. Even though, despite the shock and embarrassment factor, in the vision he had...enjoyed it. Which was almost even more nauseating. And the concept that he and Willow would do something like that to Cordelia and Oz...the young man totally didn't get it...

Xander walked quickly to the bathroom and poured water from the tap into a cup, drinking it down quickly. After hesitating for a moment, he filled the cup and emptied it again two more times. Finally, the Slayerette set the cup down on the sink counter, placing both of his hands on the same counter and looking at himself in the mirror.

“Okay, dude. Get a grip.” Harris told himself. “Let's think about it rationally for a moment. Fate can't control what I do directly.”  _Or, at least, I'm going to keep thinking that since, well, it's a lot more comforting than the alternative._  “So there has to be a reason why they'd think I would kiss Willow, and then be able to write that into Willow's book.” Taking a breath, Xander focused and went over the vision again in his mind, which was still as fresh as if he'd just had it.

They're there in Willow's room, getting ready for the Homecoming dance; somehow, he knows that. They're trying their formal wear on? He's not sure yet, just that the meeting is related to Homecoming...wait, yes, he's putting on the monkey suit borrowed from his cousin Rigby, and behind a screen, Willow is putting on her black dress. She comes out from behind the screen, and he looks at her...

_She does look nice...pretty, even._  Xander admitted to himself. But still... first of all, he didn't think Willow looked close to prettier than Cordelia, and second of all...his Willow-shaped best friend was only attractive to him in the abstract. Like when he'd accidentally found an old wedding photo of his parents. He'd thought his mom had looked pretty in her white dress, but nothing more than that.

And yet somehow, that version of himself that was in the vision had thought otherwise. He'd been overwhelmed, like 'he was seeing her for the first time.' Which didn't make any sense. Xander closed his eyes again and, almost sweating with the mental effort, he went over the vision again, carefully, inch by inch...and then he saw it.

It was almost invisible...but not quite. A mist...just the faintest vestige of black smoke, not far from the rear wall of the bedroom, around head-high.

_Some kind of spell, or something._  Xander thought to himself in satisfaction. He believed it had to be, knowing nothing of a certain species of mercenary demon whose incorporeal signature this was. 

Still, who would cast a spell like that on him...and Willow, for that matter? Despite the romantic feelings the redhead had apparently always felt towards him – which he'd missed out on completely, up until last year – Xander knew Willow was with Oz now, and would never want to do anything like that to the werewolf musician. She was a better person than that; Xander was willing to stake his own soul on that belief.

_So why would..._  Xander started to think to himself, before  one possible answer occurred to him.

_Fate._  It seemed a little banal as a way to get revenge, or even force him onto a path of its choosing, but then Xander suspected that Fate played a long-term game. Obviously, there was more to all this than just him kissing Willow...

Although, whatever Fate's ultimate purpose was, Alexander Lavelle Harris knew that he damn well wasn't going to let it happen.

**November 2nd, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

“I was wondering,” Xander said, as he got ready to leave the mansion and head back to his house. Of course, walking home after sunset in Sunnydale was a little more complicated than it might be elsewhere. You didn't just grab your coat and go. Stake?  _Check._ Cross?  _Check._  Holy Water?  _Check._ Ready to run for your life at a moment's notice?  _Also check._

“Yeah, about what?” Cordelia asked as Xander finally put his coat on.

“Well, I was kinda hoping you could help Willow out with picking her dress for Homecoming. Since you know more about the whole fancy dress thing than...well, anyone else I know.” Harris smiled somewhat nervously.

“Xander.” Cordelia complained just a little. “Come on! I've been playing nice with Willow ever since last year, and...well, she's been doing the same thing with me, but the fact of the matter is, we just don't get along. Hell, the only reason we've called a truce to all the hostilities is you.” She pointed out.

“I'm not asking you to become best friends with her.” Xander said, repressing a feeling of pain over how two of the most important women in his life simply didn't like each other much, if at all. “Much as I wish you guys would become best buds, we all know it ain't gonna happen. All I'm asking is that you help Will out with her dress, accessories, that kind of stuff.”

“That 'kind of stuff'?” Cordelia laughed in genuine amusement.

“Okay, fine. I don't know squat about all the girlie stuff, which is kinda odd, now that I think of it – since nearly all my friends are of the female persuasion.” Xander sighed. “Look, we're seniors now, and this is the last opportunity Willow's ever going to have to enjoy this sort of dance, and I want her to enjoy it, and for everything to go well for her and Oz. So, please do this for me? I'll let you pick the next three movies we watch!”

Cordelia laughed again. “No way, for this I'm going to need a lot more than that.” She smiled wickedly.  _Uh-oh..._  Xander didn't like the look of that smile. Cordelia then added, “If I do this for you, then you gotta let me take you shopping for a whole new wardrobe.”

Xander held up his hands and made a cross with his fingers, as if warding her off. They both laughed for a moment at his antics before Harris said, “Come on, Cordy. This isn't worth an entire wardrobe.” Harris knew his girlfriend had been wanting to take him shopping for a clothing makeover ever since she'd returned from summer vacation. But Xander happened to like his clothes – even the Hawaiian shirts everyone else seemed to hate – and he didn't think Cordelia should be spending that much money on him in the first place, even if she insisted she could afford it. Which wasn't the point. It wasn't as if he could spend as much dough on her, even if he used his entire road-trip fund. Which, frankly, he wasn't expecting to actually use for its intended purpose any longer, not at this point...

And most importantly? Xander, like nearly every male of the human species, really, really didn't like clothes shopping.

“One outfit, tops.” He countered.

Cordelia considered. “Two outfits,  _and_  you let me pick the next three movies. Final offer.” She smiled.

Xander looked at Cordelia carefully to see if she was bluffing, or maybe could be talked down to one outfit and the next three movies...but he didn't think so. He gave a mock shudder at the thought of shopping, though it was quite the horror. Her choosing the next three movies wouldn't be that bad, overall. So Xander just nodded. “Alright. You win.”

“Well, naturally. Did you ever actually expect otherwise?” Cordelia asked, before unleashing her incredible megawatt smile.

**November 3rd, 1998  
Sunnydale High School**

Xander walked next to Willow as they walked away from getting their yearbook pictures taken. It had been more annoying than he'd anticipated, having to pose for the camera that way; but Willow had seemed to love it. But now, perhaps not unexpectedly, the redhead was totally focusing on the upcoming Homecoming dance.

“...to help me pick out an outfit. I wanna wear something that makes Oz go, 'oh'.” She grinned.

“Actually,” Xander said hesitantly, he'd been hoping she'd say something like this so he could ease Willow into the 'accept Cordelia's help' thing. “I was thinking Cordelia could help you with that better than I could. Let's face it, no one knows fashion better than her!”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Cordelia wouldn't want to help me, Xander.”

“Uh, well...” Xander said slowly. “I kind of already asked her, and she said yes.”

“What? But why would she-?” Willow looked at him suspiciously. “Xander?”

“Would you believe, she's my girlfriend and I can be very persuasive?” Harris offered sheepishly.

“Xander.” Willow said sternly. “Resolve face.” Indeed, it was there.

He  _really_  didn't want to tell her the truth, but then, Harris figured the lie (or lie by omission) about the Iron Coin was already bad enough. So he said, “I agreed to let her take me shopping, and buy me a few new outfits.”

“Xander!” Willow knew how much he would have hated that.

“Hey, I just want this shindig to go well for you. And you gotta admit, Cordelia really does know this stuff the best.”

“There you go calling it 'stuff' again, Xander.” Cordelia said, smiling just a little, then she returned to scoping out the room, even as she walked closer towards them.

“Watchya doing?” Xander asked her.

“Checking out the – and I laughingly use the phrase – competition.” Cordelia answered. She looked over at one girl, chatting with a couple of boys and playing with her hair. Oz chose that moment to come up and put an arm around Willow, much to the redhead's appreciation.

“Holly Charleston: nice girl, brain dead, doesn't have a prayer.” Cordelia continued. She shifted her gaze to another girl, who was handing out flyers. “Michelle Blake: open to all mankind, especially those with a letterman's jacket and a car.” She looked at Xander, concerned. “She could give me a run for my money.” Xander couldn't help but smile at his girlfriend's antics. Even with all that they dealt with on a daily basis...Cordelia could still take this kind of thing so seriously. In a way, it was one of the many little quirks that he loved about her.

“Where's Buffy?” Willow asked, and both she and Oz looked around. “She's gonna miss the yearbook pictures.”

“Buffy and Faith are in the library, training.” Xander answered distractedly. 

Oz raised an eyebrow, which considering the young man in question, was almost the equivalent of a worried frown. “I don't think she was here the day they announced them. Did anybody tell her?”

Cordelia waved a hand. “Oh, I'll tell her now. I have to go to the nurse's office for an ice pack, anyway.”

Xander put his hand on her arm, feeling worried. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Cordelia smiled and nudged him gently. “No, silly. It shrinks the pores!” She walked off, but unlike what would have been...Xander followed after her. Which caused the Librarian  to start screaming obscenities at the Jester in another dimension, all of which simply made the agent of Chaos smile in sheer ecstasy. 

“I'll go with you.” Xander said to Cordelia, blissfully unaware of that. “I need to talk to the G-man, anyway.”

“You've been doing that a lot recently.” Cordelia pointed out. “More than usual, I mean.” She raised an eyebrow, as if expecting him to answer.

Xander thought for a moment, then said, “He's been teaching me Latin.” He frowned a little. “It's slow-going, but then most of the important research books aren't written in English, and at least Latin has the same letters as English. Man, I don't even wanna think about trying to learn languages using runes or hieroglyphics!”

Cordelia looked at him carefully. “You're trying to make yourself more useful, right?”

Xander nodded. “Yeah.” He saw the look on her face. “Cordelia, honey, no matter what we end up doing once high school's over, we're still gonna be here in Sunnydale up until next summer. So I wanna contribute however I can, on account of our lives might depend on it.”

Cordelia had to concede the point there. They reached the library, but then Cordelia got distracted, going over to a couple of guys in order to canvass them for their votes regarding Homecoming Queen. “Mashad! Hi...”

Smiling a little, Xander shook his head. “And this is why I came along.” Though he did also need to hand in his latest Latin sentence translations to Giles. He walked inside. “Hey, Buffy.” Harris said, then pointed to the closed office door. “Giles in there?”

“Yep.” Buffy said, then she added, “So, why do you need to talk to him? Is it about-” The senior Slayer quickly cut herself off, she didn't want to say 'the fact that you seem to be able to know the future?' as Faith was there.

“No, it's not that.” Xander shook his head. He saw as Faith picked up on the hesitation, and knew she was wondering what it was that Buffy  _hadn't_  said. “Believe it or not?” He held up the piece of paper that his Latin sentences had been written on. “Giles has me learning a dead language.” He headed for the door, but then he turned back. “Oh, yeah, nearly forgot. Did you know that yearbook pictures are being taken today? They're almost done, too. Not sure if you were here, when they announced it.”

“Yearbook pictures; that's today?!” Buffy exclaimed, dismayed. “I thought that was tomorrow!!”

“Nope.” Xander shook his head.

“Sorry, Faith, I gotta go!” Straightaway Buffy wiped her face with a towel, fixed her hair and makeup with the aid of a compact mirror, and then tore out of the library. 

Faith just shrugged to herself, once Buffy was gone and Xander had entered Rupert's private office. “No skin off my nose, whatever.”

And thus, Buffy Anne Summers never got the idea of running for Homecoming Queen...

**November 3rd, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

The silver armored demon known as Skip had no idea what he was supposed to do right now. Because first off, the redhead was at the wrong house, and second, the Mother's boyfriend wasn't anywhere near the Wiccan wannabe tonight. So how the hell was he supposed to do that lust spell on the two of them, according to the boss's game plan? Because unfortunately, said boss was entirely unreachable at the moment to ask for new orders.

“Well, crap.” It looked like he might have to improvise. And Skip  ** _hated_**  improvising. It was always so...messy.

“Personally, I've always found myself quite liking improvisation.”

Skip turned around and saw an Armani-clad human with solid blue eyes. No, not human; definitely not. Not only was the smell all wrong, but Skip could feel the waves of power rolling off of this being, whatever it truly was. And given that neither of the girls were reacting to his presence, this guy had to be as invisible as Skip himself was.

“Okay, so who are you, and why are you reading my thoughts?” the demon mercenary asked politely enough.

The blue-eyed being smirked. “They call me the Jester. You might have heard of me.”

_Awwww, shit!_  Skip couldn't help but intake a deep, sharp breath. He had indeed heard about the Jester. The merc also knew that pissing off something that powerful was not conducive to his long-term health. Or survival. His employer could handle something like this guy, maybe, but definitely not him.

“Yeah, I've heard of you. So what are you doing here?” Skip maintained that cool, polite tone.

“Oh, you know, getting my kicks by watching certain people's well-laid plans go awry.”

Worried, Skip asked. “Just for the record, since she's sure to ask; were you the one to screw up the boss's plan?”

The Jester shook his head. “Nope. That was all Xander Harris, oddly enough. To think, he's fast becoming my favorite mortal in this little town! And that's where you screwed the pooch, you know. Just assuming that he'd be in the right position, when you needed him to be.”

“Wasn't my plan, pal, I'm just the hired help.” Skip pointed out.

“True. And in my opinion, your boss makes her plans way too elaborate.” The Jester smiled. “Tell her I said hi, will you? And that I wish her luck. Because she'll definitely need it.” He laughed and vanished.

_Holy crap on a cracker. Betcha this won't go over well._  Skip morphed into black smoke and subsequently left the mortal plane himself.

**November 13th, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Thankfully, Homecoming had taken place without too much trouble – at least as far as Xander was personally concerned. Although Faith and Buffy, the first to be picked up by the limousine the Scooby Gang had rented to take them to the dance,  **did**  get hijacked into a remote part of the outskirts of Sunnydale. All in order to take part in a sick 'contest' hosted by Kakistos' former minion, Mr. Trick. Slayerfest '98, he'd called it. Complete with demons, the surviving Gorch brother and his undead wife, crazy high-tech German assassins and some weird wannabe mountain man. 

As one might have expected, though, the bad guys all got their asses kicked by the Chosen Two, even though Mr. Trick escaped the Slayers' wrath by the time the 'fun' was all over. And after he heard about it from the Slayers, Xander had a feeling that that vampire was going to become the latest headache in Sunnydale for a while.

Concerned over how the limo had failed to pick them up, Willow, Oz, Cordelia and Xander had made their own way to the Bronze and waited for Faith and Buffy to join them. Harris had been worried that Faith had somehow found out about Angel, and that the two Slayers had had a major falling out over that. Still, his worries had been for naught; the two Slayers, having bonded over the life or death situation they'd found themselves in, had shown up just as the guy named Devon had announced Cordelia had been elected Homecoming Queen. Dirty, disheveled but still smiling broadly, the Chosen Two had clapped and cheered as the crown had been placed upon Cordelia's head and the head cheerleader had launched into her acceptance speech. Something memorable for how short it unexpectedly was, once Cordelia had caught sight of the Slayers.

Still, for all its epic nastiness, Slayerfest '98 didn't hold a candle to the Band Candy incident. And while from a certain point of view it had been funny as hell, it had also been somewhat traumatizing to witness all the teachers and adults – and even Principal Snyder – briefly revert to their teenage selves. Also, finding out the candy had been drugged by that old 'friend' of Giles, Ethan Rayne...just so a demon could get babies to eat? And that Trick was the one behind recruiting the chaos mage, in order for Lurconis to get his unholy meal?

_Yep. I knew he'd be trouble._  Xander thought to himself, as he held Cordelia in his arms and they watched  _The Horse Whisperer_  together on the couch.  _That guy Trick, he's definitely gonna be a problem. Well, until Buffy and Faith eventually deal with him, and dust his undead ass..._

"Hey, Xander?" Cordelia said sleepily.

"Yeah, Cor?"

"Were you planning to stay over tonight? 'Cause if you were...my parents aren't gonna be back from Catalina until tomorrow. And the maid, Lupe, she has the night off." Cordelia let her hand trail lazily down towards her boyfriend's southern regions, feeling gleeful over how...stiff...he'd just become. "What do you say...once the movie's over, you wanna fool around a little in my room?"

It was amazing how neither teenager could hear the screams of rage being emitted by Skip's employer within that higher dimension, which was the home of the Powers That Be, over how her plans (and that of Fate) were unraveling faster and faster with every passing moment.


	7. Episode 6: The Big Reveal

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That remains the property of Joss Whedon. The Jester, the Iron Coin, etc. and any other purely original material remains my property and all rights are reserved.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 6: The Big Reveal

**November 17th, 1998  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

Xander kept one hand on the cross in his pocket, as he slowly (and carefully) walked into the abandoned mansion that Buffy had set Angel up in. Keeping a careful watch for the vampire – though he saw no sign of him in the main room of the structure – Harris walked further in, and called out. “Deadboy? You in here?”

“Xander.” 

Hearing the ensouled vampire's familiar voice directly behind him, Xander started, despite himself, and then turned around to face Angel. _God damn it, one of these days someone has **got** to attach a bell on to your undead ass; and for some reason, I'm hoping it'll be me..._

“I have to admit…” Angel said slowly, looking his visitor over. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”

“And I half expected to find you asleep.” Xander replied. He released his grip on the crucifix and took his hand out of his pocket, knowing full well that Angel knew exactly what he'd been doing. “It's daylight out, after all.”

“Vampires are often active during the day. We just can’t let sunlight-“

Xander rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear it. “I know that. Vampirism 101, got that memo _**years**_ ago. But you guys still have to sleep eventually, right?”

“We do sleep, yeah.” Angel acknowledged. “Just not as much or as often as humans need to.”

“Hmm.” Xander replied, looking thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“Not really, no.”

“Maybe not from the undead's perspective.” Xander conceded. “But trying looking at it from my point of view, why don't you? Namely, Buffy and Faith hunting vamps during the daylight hours. The element of surprise isn't great as I thought it was.”

“I see. So, why are you here?” Angel asked him.

Xander shrugged. “Not entirely sure, to be honest with you. Truth is I was kinda torn between wanting to talk with you, and set you on fire if you were asleep. I was also kinda thinking you'd still be chained up, but I shoulda known Buffy wouldn't leave you like that for long.”

“She let me free of the chains a while back. And I'm not surprised about you wanting to kill me. And, speaking of which, how did you know Buffy was going to find me before she found me?” Angel asked, walking past Xander into the main room.

“I can't tell you.” Xander replied. “Not won't; _**can't**_. And even if I could, I probably wouldn't. Because here’s the thing, pal; I don’t trust you. Never have, probably never will either.”

“And I’m so torn up about that.” Angel replied facetiously.

“Was that sarcasm?” Xander looked astounded for a moment. “I didn’t know that Hell could give you a sense of humor.” 

“It can't. And just for the record, did you think I didn't know?”

“Huh?” Xander didn't get it.

“I figured it out.” Angel said stonily. “You lied to Buffy about Willow restoring my soul that morning. The way she fought, the way she acted...Buffy didn't know her best friend was going to do the curse again. And yet, she wasn't all that surprised when it happened, just as she was about to shove that sword through my chest. Add all that to what Buffy's mentioned since I came back...”

“Fine.” Xander admitted. “I lied to her. Maybe I shouldn't have, maybe I should have trusted her to do the right thing regardless...but see, here's the thing; ****_I couldn't_. That morning when I looked into her eyes and had to make that decision, I just couldn't. Because as much as I hate to admit it, the Buffster can't think straight where you're concerned. If she'd known there was even one chance in a billion that Willow could pull off that sort of a miracle, and fresh out of a coma mind you, she'd have held back when she fought you and risked six billion people ending up in Hell. I'm not saying she would have done it in purpose, sure; but in my mind, the risk was just too great. And I make no apologies for my decision, least of all to you.”

“Fine. You did the right thing, anyway.” Angel looked back at Xander as he said that.

“Huh?” Harris wasn't sure if he was actually hearing things.

“I said, you did the right thing. As much as _I_ hate to admit it, I have to agree with you about what Buffy would have done.” Angel said reflectively.“She might not have done it deliberately, as you say, but the hope that the curse would work would have affected Buffy's fighting to some degree. All I - all Angelus would have needed was a split second, one instant where Buffy fought less than her best...and he'd have killed her, and damned us all. So that's why you did the right thing, regardless of what your motivations might have been that day.” 

Xander shook his head. “Okay, then let's move on. You don’t like me, I don’t like you, and that probably isn’t going to change one way or the other.”

“Then why are you here?” The vampire asked again.

“Because Buffy’s still in love with you, and she's my friend, and I care about her. I'm here because when you’re not evil, you've helped keep her alive, and I can't afford to let myself forget that. And finally, I'm here because Slay-gal thinks that you’re worth trusting again, and you know what? I trust Buffy's judgment. Not her instincts, at least not where you're concerned; but I trust her to know the difference between right and wrong, and do the right thing. At the end of the day, I really do. Sure, she’s not right every time, but she’s right often enough, and well…she was kind of right about not killing you, back when we first found out you were a vampire. When you actually have that optional soul extra, you’re one of the good guys.”

“I'm touched.” Angel said sarcastically, which immediately made Xander angry and defensive. 

“Still, all that doesn't change the fact that I don’t like you. I don’t like vampires in general, and I don't like how you’re only one perfectly happy moment away from going all psycho evil again –”

“NO! No.” Angel said rapidly, shaking his head. “Buffy and I…we won’t…we can't...that's never going to happen again.”

“I hope so, for both your sakes. But problem is you two, you’ve got this big forever love, the whole Romeo and Juliet thing, going. And Buffy isn't going to deal well, when it finally dawns on her that you two can't ever have that sort of relationship again. I just did the Cliff Notes on that one, I’ll admit...”

“I already told you, it won't happen again. Not now that I finally know about the loophole in the curse. And for the last time, why exactly are you here?” Angel asked yet again. “I'm pretty sure it wasn't just to warn me to stay as miserable as possible for the rest of eternity.”

“Well, what do you know? You do have a brain, after all. Fine, you want the truth?” Xander asked rhetorically. “I came here to tell you that I’m telling Faith about you. She's the new Slayer in town, in case no one's mentioned it; the girl who was Called after Kendra was murdered by your insane 'daughter'. And I figured you deserved fair warning concerning what I'm about to do, just in case she doesn’t jive to the ‘Angel is a good guy’ mantra.”

Angel frowned. “I thought you said you trusted her?”

“I do. But there’s something else that’s a pressing issue, buddy boy. Namely - sooner or later, the secret that you’re hiding here is going to get out, it'll become public knowledge you somehow escaped from Hell. Giles promised Buffy that he wouldn't tell anyone, and so did I...but...well, if the news comes out the wrong way, I'm thinking Faith might try to stake you first and ask questions, like, never. And even if the latest member of the Chosen crowd doesn’t succeed, Buffy…well, she’s not going to take it well. And from what your girlfriend has told me about that fight she and Kendra once had, back when that girl first showed up in your old apartment…call me paranoid if you want, but in my book Slayer-on-Slayer type violence isn’t something to look forward to. So, at some point, Faith needs to be told you're back. And while I do trust Buffy…she should have told everyone else by now…and if she’s not going to, I will.”

Harris shrugged. “I just felt you deserved the heads up.” And with that, Xander headed for the front doors of the mansion.

“Thanks.” Angel muttered, but in such a low voice that the male teen couldn't hear him. He watched Harris depart and thought to himself, _Maybe I misjudged the boy, and he's actually starting to grow up. Then again, from the way I can smell that Cordelia girl all over him, maybe Harris is still the same judgemental, hormonal idiot he ever was..._

**November 17th, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

As Xander walked into Cordelia's house after the maid let him in – her parents were away, which was an occurrence that was becoming more and more common these days – he was still thinking about how he was going to break the big news about Angel to Faith. Frankly, it would probably be best to break it to Oz and Willow at the same time, if he was going to do something like that...still...

He should probably at least offer Buffy one more chance to tell everyone, give her one more day to tell the gang the Big Secret.

Of course, one person Xander _didn't_ need to alert about Angel was Cordelia, as she already knew. Granted, Xander had had misgivings about telling his girlfriend about Angel's presence. He'd spent a lot of time debating it with himself, before he'd finally decided to tell her a week ago.

It was a touchy issue, to be sure. On the one hand, Xander had promised Buffy that he wouldn't tell anyone else, and when he'd said it, he'd meant it. On the other hand, he didn't like keeping things from Cordelia. It didn't feel right, and keeping the Iron Coin secret – not that he really had a choice about that, he supposed – was bad enough. _Though I'm never, ever telling her about that vision of me and Willow..._ Xander inadvertently shuddered just a little. He'd managed to avoid that particular scenario, praise be all that was good and holy....which made him wonder when – not if – Fate was going to try again to get back at him, and how it would happen. Or if the agents of Fate would try some other plan to mess up his relationship with Cordelia, and Willow's with Oz...

Xander's mind quickly went back to the issue he'd been thinking about before, leaving that subject for another time. With regard to Angel, landing squarely in the 'don't tell Cordelia' column was the very basic fact that the Chase girl was blunt and tactless even at the best of times. Which, frankly, was not such a bad thing, overall. He liked that trait of hers, sometimes; especially when Cordelia forced him to face things he'd rather ignore. But on the downside, it meant that, in this case, if he told Cordelia about Angel, there were very good odds that she would bring it up with Buffy, in a sort of 'what the hell are you thinking?' and that just wouldn't play out.

Despite the understanding they'd reached in the library when Buffy had confronted him and Giles about his foreknowledge of Angel...Xander could tell that nowadays, Buffy just didn't trust him as much as she used to. There was a slight hesitancy, at times, when she talked to him...and Giles had, somewhat predictably, taken Buffy's side. In the face of the unknown and potentially dangerous, _of course_ the Watcher would side with his Slayer. . It wasn't all that noticeable, and it wasn't even that bad, when you got right down to it...it would probably only last a short time, overall, but still...

If Cordelia let slip that Xander had told her about Angel, after he'd promised not to tell anyone else, that he would let Buffy tell everyone in her own way and in her own good time...the current truce probably wouldn't be lasting for long.

However, on the 'Tell Cordelia' side of things was the fact that when Xander had made that promise Buffy...that he wouldn't tell anyone, that he would let Buffy tell everybody the big secret...he'd expected her to wait a week, maybe two at the most, before telling everyone else that Angel was back.

By the time he'd finally told Cordelia, though, it had been just under three weeks. And now, of course, it was nearly a month.

So yes, Xander knew he'd broken his promise, and he'd mentally braced himself for Cordelia to go off on Buffy and let it slip. Fortunately, though, his girlfriend hadn't done anything of the sort; although she had sent some special glares in Buffy's direction from time to time. Something Buffy had noticed, and had even asked him why Cordelia was acting like that.

The number of lies and concealment growing ever higher, Xander had successfully pleaded ignorance.

As Xander arrived at his girlfriend's bedroom, he found Cordelia in her four-room suite finishing up a homework assignment. Unlike Xander himself, the head cheerleader had excellent prospects for college, and was determined to do well enough to get into the best Ivy League schools. Though how much of that was what Cordelia wanted, and how much of it was her parents' expectations was another matter entirely.

Xander's goal was just to graduate high school alive and with a degree. After that? He'd have to figure out what he was going to do in terms of earning a living, but right now he had no idea what that might be. It wasn't like he could use the Iron Coin to make himself rich...well, he assumed he couldn't, anyway. The Jester almost certainly wouldn't let that happen; where would the fun be if his mortal puppet could pull off something like that?

Sighing inaudibly, Xander leaned on the doorway and watched Cordelia continue her work. She didn't love school work like Willow did, or hunt down knowledge like some predatory animal the way his oldest friend did; but she was also far from a vapid idiot, despite how the brunette had occasionally acted in the past. _Damn, but she looks so beautiful,_ Xander thought to himself smiling. _I don't know how, but even without trying, Cordy can make doing homework look sexy! I swear, sometimes I wonder how I manage to keep my libido in check..._

That was a good question, actually. The topic of where their relationship was going had been raised a few times recently. The other night, while they'd been watching a very romantic movie, Xander had definitely noticed all the signals his girlfriend had been sending him. So Harris suspected Cordelia might give him one hell of a Christmas present this year; or, maybe it would happen either on his 18th birthday or hers (there was only a month's difference, after all). Then again, with his luck, Xander might just die a virgin...

Finally, after a few minutes, Cordelia realized her boyfriend was standing at the doorway looking at her. She turned to face him and said,“You dork, how long have you been there?”

“Few minutes.” Xander shrugged. He nodded to her homework. “You done?” They had been planning on going to the Bronze tonight, and it was getting close to time to head out there. Xander instinctively checked to make sure he had the usual gear for dealing with vampires. Cross on a thin chain around his neck – he almost never took that off anymore – larger cross in one pocket, vial of holy water and of course, the ever-trusty stake. He knew Cordelia almost always had a stake and wore a cross around her neck as well.

_That's what living on the Hellmouth does to you, I suppose._

“So, after we end up leaving Sunnydale, are you still going to go out every night with all that?” Cordelia asked, as she wrote one more thing quickly on her homework sheet and then got up, grabbing the stake Giles had given her last year.

_Ah, yes, because it's so totally a certain 'when'..._ Biting his tongue, Xander nodded. “Probably. I'd rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them, right?”

Seeing Cordelia shrug carelessly Harris straightened up and stepped aside so she could walk out of the bedroom suite. _God-damn, she even has a sexy walk! Oh, man, what is wrong with me? I can't stop thinking about sex, even for a minute?_ Shrugging to himself after realizing the answer was most likely 'no', Xander followed her towards the front door of the mansion, and they were soon on their way to the Bronze.

**November 17th, 1998  
Sunnydale High Library**

“Hey, Giles.” Xander said as he walked into the library after escorting Cordelia back home. It was late, but as usual Giles was still in the library even at this late an hour. _Guess that's another thing we have in common; the houses we live in aren't exactly a 'home'. How the heck Giles can still live in that place after he found Ms. Calendar murdered in there is, like, totally beyond me!_ Xander winced for a moment, reminded of Angel yet again. He'd wanted to talk to Giles about telling Faith the Big Secret...how best to frame the whole 'one of the most murderous vampires in history is in Sunnydale and Buffy's been hiding him – but it's okay, since he has a soul – unless Buffy gives him another happy...' thing in the best light possible.

_Not saying it like **that** would probably be a very good start..._ Harris mused as he walked further into the library. No sign of Giles. But the doors were unlocked and the light was on, so odds were that the Watcher was going to be coming back soon, wherever he had gone off to.

Despite his efforts., Xander hadn't gone through all the books here yet in his hunt for more information about the Iron Coin, the Jester, Fate, Chaos, the Hydra, and more. Granted, he'd made little to no progress so far. He'd found a few scattered legends about certain things, but they didn't seem like the Jester, or the way he'd described Fate and Chaos. There _was_ mention in one book - written in very archaic Latin that he'd only processed half of - of 'servitors of Fate', creations that acted to ensure destiny and prophecy went according to plan. Whether that actually meant anything, assuming he hadn't mistranslated the words, was currently unknown. So possibly, they might be things he might have to deal with.

Up on the mezzanine level Xander quickly delved deep into a couple of books, curiously - his search for information on Fate and Chaos accidentally led to text that chronicled the lives and deeds of particularly noteworthy demonic warlords, which he found himself engrossed in. It was when he was reading a section on a demon called Lagos that the door opened. Xander lowered the book and looked past the shelves for a moment. Buffy, Faith, Giles entering the room, check, check, check...

It was all Xander could do to contain a strangled gasp, though, when he saw the woman following them.

It was the woman from the vision, the one with that weird glove. The evil psycho-Watcher.

_Oh, shit._

Xander slunk back behind the bookshelf and found himself on the verge of hyperventilating, though he was damned if he knew why. For once, he actually had the advantage; Harris knew what the bad guy was, whereas she would know nothing about him. So Xander slowly, and quietly, moved a bit farther back behind the shelves. As the four approached the table and both Buffy and Faith stood next to the table, the junior Slayer broke the silence that had followed them in.

“Look, like I told you on the way here, I don't need a new Watcher. No offense, lady, but I just have this problem with authority figures. They end up kind of dead.” Having said that Faith sat down, letting the sarcasm permeate the air.

The woman walked behind the table and looked at the books, casually and dismissively. “Duly noted. Fortunately, it's not up to you.” Faith and Buffy looked at each other and one rolled her eyes, the other merely shrugging.

“Mr. Giles, where do you keep the rest of your books?” The English-accented woman asked in that slightest hint of scorn and mocking but still impossibly polite way that only the British seemed able to pull off.

“I-I'm sorry. The rest?” Giles semi-spluttered.

“Yes, the actual library.” The woman replied coolly. Then she said, “Oh. I see...”

“I can assure you, Mrs. Post, this is the finest occult reference collection...”

The woman – _Mrs Post_ , Xander corrected himself – interrupted Giles. “...this side of the Atlantic, I'm sure. Do you have Hume's 'Paranormal Encyclopedia'?” Xander didn't hear a reply from Giles. “The Labyrinth Maps of Malta?” 

This time Giles did reply, his voice just a bit sheepish, and surprisingly soft. “It's on order...”

“Well, I suppose that you have Sir Robert Kane's 'Twilight Compendium'?” Mrs. Post asked next.

“Oh! Uh...yes, I...yes! Yes, I do.” Giles added, the note of pride in his voice was...surprising.

Of course you do.” Mrs. Post didn't sound impressed, and Xander could easily imagine the haughty look on the woman's face. “Well, let's get down to business. I have been sent by the Council for a very important reason. Faith needs a Watcher. I am to act in that capacity and report back.”

“Excuse me, Mary Poppins, you don't seem to be listening.” Faith interrupted, a note of anger in her voice.

Giles, probably still smarting from the rebuke his fellow countrywoman had just delivered, interrupted Faith before she could proceed further. “Faith, if the Council feels that you need closer observation, then...we will all, of course, cooperate.”

Mrs. Post wasn't finished, though. “The Council wishes me to report on the **_entire_** situation here. Including you, Mr. Giles.” 

“Mm!” Buffy said, a note of amusement in her voice. “Academic probation's not so funny today, huh Giles?” Xander had to stifle a laugh at that, wishing he'd come up with that line.

Mrs. Post continued. “The fact is, there is talk in the Council that you have become a bit too...” she inhaled sharply. “American.”

Almost in unison Buffy and Giles protested. “Me?” “Him?”

Xander couldn't help it. He laughed out loud at the idea that Giles had become 'too American'. He walked out from behind the shelves and down the stairs to the main part of the library, four pairs of eyes on him as he did so. 

“Giles? Too American?” He laughed again. “Yeah, I'll believe that when he stops demanding that I keep putting all those unnecessary 'u's in the words I translate from Latin.”

“When the language is called 'Americanish' and not English, **_then_** you can decide what is and what isn't unnecessary in terms of spelling a word correctly, Xander.” Giles shot back, looking mildly irritated.

“You don't pronounce the 'u', you don't need the 'u'. Thus, unnecessary.” Xander smirked and set the book he'd been reading on the top of the shelf beneath the railing.

“I'm sorry, we haven't been properly introduced. Manners...” Mrs. Post looked askance at Giles, who looked away before the British woman turned back to the bearer of the Iron Coin. “Who are you?”

“I was going to ask you the same question when you walked in, but from the accent and the clothes and well,” Xander gestured to her for a moment, “everything else, you're obviously a Watcher. From what I just heard, you're here for Faith?”

“Yes...” Mrs, Post said slowly, looking confused for a moment, before she looked at Giles again. “I'm assuming you're one of Miss Summers' friends. Ah yes. I remember now, the Council file mentioned your inexcusable inability to keep things secret...” She looked the male teen over for a moment. “You would be Xander Harris, then?”

“Hey, lady, the entire town around here is on a freaking Hellmouth.” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. “It's kind of hard _not_ to notice that demons and vampires aren't out there. That more people don't know about them, especially after living here all their lives, is the confusing thing! Well, it's more that they refuse to accept it, sure, but...” 

“The aid of Xander and the others who have joined the fight, as it were, has been invaluable in keeping things as under control as they are, around here. Without Xander's help, Buffy would have been long dead by now, and it's entirely possible that the defeat of the apocalypse demon known as the Judge would have been impossible.” Giles interjected. “And before we continue to get sidetracked on this subject, shall we continue with what you had in mind to say?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Post replied tersely. After a moment to gather her thoughts, she continued. “A demon named Lagos is coming here to the Hellmouth. Mr. Giles, an illustration of Lagos, if you please.” Scorn dripped from her words, oozing across the floor.

_Do you really have to act like such a complete bitch?_ Xander couldn't help wanting to ask, but he managed to contain it. _I know you're a black hat and all, but yeesh! You'd think that subtlety would be up your alley a bit more..._

Flustered, Giles started to look through the books on the table. “Oh, uh...yes. Uh...” 

Xander cleared his throat and picked up the book he'd been perusing recently, opening it to the passage he'd been reading. “You mean this Lagos?” He handed the open book to Giles, who showed it to Buffy and Faith.

“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Post replied, looking thrown off by Xander's quick response. _Good, bitch._ “Now according to my information, Lagos seeks the Glove of Myhnegon. No record of this glove's full power exists, but we do know it is highly dangerous and must not fall into the hands of a demon. So Lagos must be stopped.”

“What do you propose we do, then?” Giles asked.

“Well, if it's not too radical a suggestion, I thought we might kill him.” Mrs. Post said snootily.

“Does he have his army with him?” Xander asked.

“I'm sorry, what?” Mrs. Post looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Army?” Faith interjected. “Lady, you want me to go up against an entire demon army? Because hey, I'm good, but I'm not suicidal!”

“According to the book, this guy has an army.” Xander replied. “I mean, since he's notable enough to have an entry complete with an illustration in the book on account of he's a powerful interdimensional warlord with twelve legions at his command – plus he stood up to some Archduke Sebassis guy, and won? If this Lagos character's here in Sunnydale looking for this Glove you mentioned, what are the odds he brought his army with him?”

“Very small.” The female Watcher replied. “The magical energy required to bring even himself here would have been astronomical. So it will be just him, most likely. I suggest two Slayers at full strength for a coordinated hunt.” Xander saw Buffy and Faith exchange look. “The Council believes the Glove to be buried in a tomb somewhere in Sunnydale, so doubtless Lagos will be headed for the cemetery.”

“There is more than one in Sunnydale.” Giles pointed out.

“I see. How many?” Mrs. Post demanded.

“Uh, twelve, actually.”

Mrs. Post took a deep breath and Xander noticed that she looked quite perturbed for just a moment. “Well, we'll just have to take them one at a time.” Giles started to look through his books. “Anything in your books that might pinpoint the exact location of the tomb would be useful, but then, we cannot ask for miracles.” Giles let his book drop to the table and quite obviously didn't look at his so-called colleague. If the other Watcher cared, she didn't show any sign that she did. “We will begin tomorrow at sunset. Faith, come with me, please.” She turned around and left. Faith looked at Buffy, who shrugged, then got up.

“Be careful around her.” Xander said to the younger Chosen One. “I think she's hiding something. I don't trust her.” _Of course she's hiding something. She's evil psycho-bitch, even if I can't tell anyone how I know that._

“Never planned on trusting her.” Faith replied coolly, before following the female Watcher out of the library.

“Well.” Giles declared. “That was bracing.” 

“Interesting lady. Can we kill her?” Buffy asked, perhaps only a quarter serious.

Giles shook his head. “I think the Council might frown upon that.”

“There's another thing the Council might frown on, while we're on the subject. At the very least, I'm certainly starting to.” Xander said after a moment. “Why haven't you told her?”

Buffy didn't need to ask what Xander meant by that. “I'm not ready to tell Faith about Angel...or anyone else, for that matter. It's too-”

“What? Too soon? Buffy, not to sound insensitive, since I can't relate to your problem at all, but it doesn't matter if you're not ready to talk about it! Because what the hell do you think will happen when Faith finds out on her own? She'll try to kill him, and either we'll end up with a dusty Deadboy or Angel will have to kill or seriously hurt Faith to survive. And she will find out on her own if you don't tell her, don't you get that?” Harris saw the stubborn look on the blonde Slayer's face., and exhaled wearily. “No, obviously, you don't. Buffy, come on - you're smarter than this, do you really think that you can keep something as big as Angel a secret forever?”.

“No! Not forever, just long enough-”

“Buffy,” Xander interrupted again. “Look at everything that's happened over the last two years. What's our track record been like? I mean, sure, concerning the big things like staying alive and making sure the world's still there in the morning, we do pretty good. But on the smaller things? Like keeping secrets from people who have a right to know? I think the technical term to describe our luck there, and correct me if I'm wrong Giles, is 'shitty'.”

“If I tell her, Faith's just going to try to kill Angel straightaway!” Buffy protested.

“Not necessarily.” Xander disagreed. “She's never met Angelus. The rest of us? We've all had a good look at him, up close and personal. Maybe you don't get it, Buff, but unlike you...I could still see Angelus lurking underneath the surface, that time I went to visit your honey at that damned mansion of his. I can't pretend Angelus isn't there, _all the time_! That's why whenever I see Angel, I have this visceral desire to stake him.”

“I'm sorry – did you just use visceral properly in a sentence?” Giles interrupted incredulously.

“I did, try not to faint.” Xander replied with an annoyed-slash-amused look. Then he turned back to Buffy and his expression grew more grave, the humor gone from his entire expression in seconds. “Buffy... look, I don't want Angel dead. Or Faith to end up dead or seriously hurt. I'll admit, I wouldn't be all that upset if Angel got seriously hurt, but hey! I'm not perfect. But the important thing is, Faith _**needs to know.**_ If you don't tell her and she finds out on her own, think what that will mean for whatever trust you two might have! I mean, you guys put each other's lives in your hands every night, when you patrol together or go hunting a specific demon together or whatever.” He sighed. “I'm sorry, Buff. But enough's enough; if you won't tell her, I will.”

“But you said-” Buffy protested, but there was...the protest was almost half-hearted. Not quite.

Harris sighed tiredly. “Yeah, I know what I said. But come on, Buffy! I was expecting you to 'fess up to everyone within...a week, say. Maybe two at the most. Not a whole freaking month, almost...” He sighed again and looked away.

Buffy didn't say anything for several minutes, staring at nothing. Giles somewhat awkwardly busied himself with the books on the table, gathering them up and putting them back on the shelf. Xander stuck his hand in his pockets, and one hand half-consciously touched the Iron Coin.

Finally, Buffy spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “You...” She paused. “Xander, you do have a point. It's a good point...a very point-y argument.” She nodded. “All right. I'll tell Faith. Right now.” Buffy took a deep breath and stood up. She nodded to Xander and Giles and then left the library.

Xander watched her leave and thought to himself, _I hope this works..._

**November 18th, 1998  
Faith's Apartment, Sunnydale**

Xander knocked on the door of the new apartment Faith now lived in, courtesy the Council's rent money, and waited for her to answer. After a minute, the door opened and the dark-haired Slayer stood at the threshold. “Xander.”

“Hey Faith.” He gestured past her. “Can I come in?”

“You oughta know better than to ask for an invitation, Harris. What do you want?” Faith asked, raising an eyebrow and looking him over.

“To talk.” Xander saw the look on Faith's face when he said that, and rolled his eyes. “And to ask you a question. Whether or not Buffy's told you the Big Secret.”

Faith nodded after a moment, then stepped aside wordlessly. Xander walked into the apartment and Faith closed the door behind him.

“Yeah. B told me the Big Secret.” Faith didn't look at him as she said that. “Wouldn't tell me where her undead lover is, but she told me he was back from Hell and living in Sunnydale. Really big on the 'he's got a soul' thing. Said that, what, had to be at least five times.”

“So you're not tempted to track Angel down and stake him?” Xander asked bluntly.

Faith shook her head. “There's more than enough vamps to kill around here without going after B's undead sex toy. Especially if he's supposed to be a White Hat.” She shrugged. “If I knew where he was, I'd probably be tempted to take him out...far as I'm concerned, a vamp's a vamp, soul or otherwise. But if he's a good guy again, then what the hell; let bygones be bygones, and all that shit. But if he ever goes evil again? I won't have a problem with taking him down.”

“Good.” Xander said. “And...I'm glad you're not interested in staking him on general principles. Makes everyone's life easier.”

“You really don't like him, huh? B was pretty clear on that...though she also said you pointed out to her that telling me would be a good idea.” Faith paused for just a second. “I appreciate that.”

Xander nodded. “She would have figured that out soon if I hadn't, I think. I hope.” He paused, then added, “You going hunting for Lagos and this Glove thing tonight, then?”

“Yeah.” Faith replied with a shrug. “Got the marching orders from my new Watcher. Supposed to listen to her, apparently.”

“Where is she?” Xander looked around.

“Out buying me some groceries, if you can believe that.” Faith said, snorting with laughter a little. Xander couldn't help but chuckle as well. “She didn't like the state of my refrigerator, apparently. She 'disapproved.'” Faith added air quotes at the end.

“I know we just met and all, but British Watcher lady sure seemed to disapprove of a lot of things.” Xander pointed out, trying to use subtlety to lead Faith on what to conclude about Mrs. Post.

“Seems like it.” Faith replied. “She'd better stop trying to order me around, though. On account of I tend to 'disapprove' of that.”

**November 18th, 1998  
The Bronze, Sunnydale**

Before Xander could sit down at the table within the packed nightclub, the one where Willow, Oz and Cordelia were sitting at already, the redhead immediately bombarded him with a question he hadn't been expecting from her.

“You knew!? Why didn't you tell us?” Willow semi-shouted.

Xander paused a moment, then sat down. “So, Buffy told you about you-know-who?” Harris asked her.

“Well, yeah!” Willow replied forcefully. “She told all of us! But what I wanna know is, how did you know before we did? And why didn't **you** tell us?!”

“Buffy didn't tell you about that part of it?” Xander asked carefully.

“No.”

_Sweet Jesus, thank you for that._ “Okay, well, I was there in the library when Buffy talked with Giles about it. And as to why I didn't tell you, that's because I promised Buffy I wouldn't.” That was the truth and nothing but the truth, but it wasn't the _whole_ truth by any means.

“But you told her!” Willow gestured at Cordelia.

“Well, duh!” Cordelia interjected hotly. “ _Of course_ Xander told me. He's my boyfriend! And you're not supposed to keep things like that secret from the person you're dating!”

“Well, I've been his friend longer than he's been your boyfriend, and Xander still didn't tell me!” Willow countered. And things just started to go totally downhill from there. These days Willow and Cordelia usually managed to get on well enough, granted, even if the Chase girl had said she really didn't like Willow or vice-versa. But sometimes...sometimes...

Xander looked at Oz. “Wanna go get 'em some drinks from the bar?”

The werewolf looked at the two bickering girls and then nodded. “Sure.”

Thus, the two boys got up and headed to order drinks for their women and themselves. The current 'conversation' between Willow and Cordelia meant their throats would soon get parched enough for handy refreshments...

**November 20th, 1998  
Sunnydale High Library**

The whole gang, including, even, the new Watcher Mrs. Post – whose first name turned out to be 'Gwendolyn' – _A more British name has never been heard_ \- minus Buffy and Faith was in the library, avidly researching the Glove. More specifically, on how to destroy it.

Xander knew that Angel had found it two days ago, and was keeping it safe in his mansion. After all, just about every demon and vampire in Sunnydale knew where the Watcher and the Slayer based themselves. Storing the glove here or at Giles's condo or at 1630 Revello Drive, would serve no purpose but to put it somewhere Lagos would look for it. In any case, the library doors opened and everyone turned to see the three people entering. Faith was holding the Glove, which was wrapped up in rags, plus Buffy and Angel were flanking her closely.

And...now it's going to happen. Xander saw the excited look in Gwendolyn Post's eyes as she approached Faith. As the female Watcher did that, Xander slowly moved into position. If everything went as he expected it would...

_Obviously, she wants the Glove. And even more obviously, she can't let us destroy it. We already have some of the ingredients we need to destroy it...there..._ Harris looked, seeing the urn again. Carrying out the spell to turn fire into Living Flame was not as easy as one would think.

“Lagos?” Post asked, eagerly.

“Dead.” Buffy said succinctly. “Faith killed him.”

“Well, you helped too.” Faith replied, then qualified her reply. “A little, anyway.”

Angel started to step back, but Giles called out his name. “Angel.”

“Yes?” The haunted look on the vampire's face was unmistakeable, as he looked at the British man he could remember torturing gleefully a few months ago.

“You did well to find the Glove and keep it safe, I grant you. But should I ever see you in this library again, I will not be satisfied with just letting you leave unscathed.” Giles said icily.

“Giles!” Buffy exclaimed, horrified.

Xander ignored the argument that started between Giles and Buffy, likewise, Angel ignored it as he slipped out the double doors without looking back.

Gwendolyn Post nodded to Faith. “Give me the Glove, Faith. It needs to be handled carefully.” Faith immediately handed it to her like it was on fire. The British woman shook her head. “You're fine for now, but it is a highly magical and powerful artifact that cannot be treated lightly.” She gingerly took the Glove and walked towards Giles's office. She didn't notice Xander near the door. Or the baseball bat that he had stashed a few feet from where he was standing.

Gwendolyn went into the librarian's office and closed the door. No one seemed to notice; Buffy and Giles continued arguing, with Cordelia and Willow joining in; perhaps not unexpectedly, Willow on Buffy's side, and Cordelia on Giles's. And of course, all of them ignored Gwen. But not Xander.

Moments later, the office door opened and a blast of lightning flew out, hitting the urn. The vessel blew up, the flames vanishing as shards and dust flew everywhere, and the other items near it were destroyed, broken or otherwise rendered useless. Another lightning blast flew out, hitting a bookshelf, destroying books and sending more flying as the shelf acquired a brand new gaping hole.

_Interesting decorative choice,_ Xander thought to himself, the only one not stunned by the latest act of Hellmouth weirdness.

A cruel laugh came out from Giles' office. A woman's laugh.

“What the hell?” Faith looked away from the argument between B and Jeeves, which she'd been watching with little real interest – as everyone else stopped arguing.

“Faith.” Gwendolyn Post walked out of the office, the Glove on her arm, the spikes at the top dug deep into her right arm. “You're an idiot.” She raised the Glove, aiming it at the dark-haired Slayer.

“Actually,” Xander said from behind her and to the left, reaching for the bat, “That would be you.”

So saying, Harris swung the bat, hard, hitting her square on the temple. Out like a light, Mrs. Post fell to the ground. She missed hitting her head on the main desk by a hair's breadth, as the Glove crackled with electricity.

Xander looked around at everyone else and dropped the bat. He shrugged as if it was nothing. “Someone might want to get the Glove off her arm, before she comes to.”

"Good Lord..." Giles looked stunned, as he stared at Gwendolyn's body. "She actually..."

"It can't come off," Buffy said, looking just as flabbergasted as her Watcher. "Angel told me that once you put it on, you...Angel? Where the hell did he go?" She looked around in dismay.

"So, what's that mean? Do we have to kill the evil Watcher, in order to stop her from using that thing on us?" Faith asked, looking around at the others.

Another argument instantly broke out, but Xander decided to stay out of it, offering to take Cordelia home instead. Besides, he had the feeling there would be a lot of questions coming his way soon, like how he'd managed to have a convenient baseball bat handy to knock out the bad guy...


	8. Episode 7: The Other Shoe

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All original content is mine, however.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta. Not just for his post-writing edits and the like, but also for his plot development and sounding board services.

I have no real excuse for the absence. Exams, papers, writers block, travel, summer job applications, Bigfoot, alien abduction. Take your pick. Things are going to pick up as we go, however.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 7: The Other Shoe

**November 22nd, 1998  
1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale**

One of the greatest things about being friends with Buffy Summers, Xander had long ago decided, was her mother's cooking. Always eager to eat somewhere that wasn't his house, Xander therefore took every opportunity possible to eat at Buffy's place. Those opportunities tended to crop up about once a month, give or take.

And it wasn't just that he got to eat somewhere that wasn't  _el casa Harris_ , or that he got to spend time with his friends, both of which were good things on their own and would have been more than enough reason for Xander to look forward to them. But it was also that Mrs. Summers cooked very nice meals. He'd heard, from Buffy, horror stories about some of her mother's occasional adventures in culinary experimentation; but so far, the results of those experiments hadn't made their way to the table when he was eating at the Summers household.

In addition to Buffy, Willow, Oz and Cordelia were present tonight, as well as Faith. Angel wasn't present, for very understandable reasons, and neither was Giles.  Xander frowned; it seemed like that guy had been avoiding Buffy's mom lately, and he had no idea why. Granted, though, Xander hadn't spent all that much time hanging with either the G-man or Mrs. S in recent weeks, so that was hardly surprising.

Until dessert was ready, the meal was over, and everyone was more or less just chilling out. Willow and Oz were making eyes at one another, and Faith was watching TV. Xander was just sitting by himself, as he noticed Cordelia and Buffy were talking about, of all things, clothes. 

Xander frowned as he remembered how his girlfriend had spent yesterday, and most of today, for that matter, in Los Angeles. Her parents had dragged her to a social function at, of all places, her father's law firm, Wolf and something or another – he hadn't really paid attention to the name – and shown her off to all concerned more like a prized possession, rather than a daughter. Cordelia, in exchange, had gone and racked up a truly massive bill on one of her fathers' credit cards by shopping for clothes and shoes in L.A., as soon as the social function was over. The bright side, Miss Chase had once said, of parents who didn't pay her all that much attention was that, as long as she didn't screw up, she could spend their money with almost reckless abandon; which she was exactly what she had done in the City of Angels.

Xander smiled, just a little, as he recalled how happy Cordelia had looked when she'd arrived back in town with all those clothes that she'd bought. He had never understood, and probably never would understand, how his girlfriend could possibly enjoy shopping so much. Or, frankly, her seeming obsession with having so many shoes and clothes – though she certainly looked good in everything she bought – which struck him as being more than a little materialistic. Still, Xander did appreciate the fact that shopping made her happy. He may not have shared her love of shopping, but he did know how much Cordy loved it, and that was reason enough to tolerate all the babble about Ralph Lauren and Jimmy Choo's and whatever other girl talk that came out of the brunette's mouth. 

_And that's not just me appreciating the **other**  talents my girl has, where her mouth's concerned!_ Xander smirked to himself, recalling the other night's make-out session. Cordelia had been wanting to make the most of his presence before departing Sunnydale for the big city, and whatever he'd thought Cordelia had been capable of achieving with her lips and her tongue, she'd  **** _surpassed_  every expectation Xander had possessed. And then some, what with the cheerleader's efforts to reach the back of his neck from the front. Their evening together had seemed to make her happy...

Xander had to admit it to himself; he liked Cordelia being happy. When she was happy, he was happy. And not just because a happier Cordelia was a Cordelia who tended to be more affectionate, although that was certainly something he didn't object to.

But, and Xander was slowly coming to realize this, it was more than that. The simple fact of the matter was that when Cordelia was happy...so was he. Just because she was happy. 

_May as well face it, buddy boy. You might just have fallen head over heels in love with this girl. And who'da thunk it, from the way you two were always tearing into one another for all those years?_

That was a thought that had been occurring in Xander's mind, in one form or another, quite frequently recently.  _Am I in love with Cordelia Chase?_  He was startled out of his musings by Cordelia almost immediately after that thought, though.

“So whatever happened to Psycho-Watcher?” The Homecoming Queen asked, looking around inquisitively. "After Giles cut off her arm where that demon-y glove thing was attached, I mean, so that she couldn't kill us all after she woke up?"

“I dunno. I think the tea-addicts from merrie olde England showed up and took her away, didn't they?” Faith answered, looking to Buffy, who was the most likely one to actually remember.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Even though according to Giles, Mrs. Post-It was actually already expelled from the Council by the time she showed up here.”

“You'd think that they'd send out some kind of memo about that.” Oz commented, stringing far more words together than he usually did.

“Oh, hey, they did!” Buffy said with a half-smirk. “Giles just never got around to reading it. He eventually found it buried under a stack of books in his office.”

“Yeah, well, let's just hope that the Watchers' Council doesn't send out a memo on the impending end of the world, then.” Xander chuckled a little.

“That would at least have to merit a phone call, right?” Oz asked.

“With any luck.” Willow nodded, before she looked at Xander. “Speaking of luck, and Mrs. Post, how come you had that baseball bat all handy like that? I mean it was kinda lucky that you had it when she came out of Giles' office and you could just clonk her right on the head like that. Nice hit, by the way.” Willow added, her voice speeding up quite a bit by the time she got to the end of her minor babble-fest.

Xander shrugged and lied glibly. “The bat's not mine, Will. I dunno, someone musta left it there. I'm pretty sure it was in there for a few days, anyway.”

Buffy shook her head and, with a suspicious frown on her face, she replied, “I'm pretty sure it wasn't, Xander. I certainly didn't see it laying around anywhere.”

Xander shot her an annoyed look.  _Not. Helping. Buffy!_  Harris thought to himself. He was pretty sure this was payback both for forcing the Chosen One to spill the beans about Angel to the rest of the Scooby Gang when she didn't want to, and for not cooperating with her demands to know everything about his 'advance knowledge' dealie.  _Is it my fault she wants the impossible, namely for me to 'fess up about the Iron Coin? I swear, Slay-gal, one of these days you're gonna have to realize that I can't tell you what's the what where the Jester's concerned, that you **can't**  get your own way about that!_

Buffy sent Xander an innocent 'who, me?' look by way of reply to his annoyed look. "Well?"

“Well, sorry to have to point it out, Buff, but you're wrong.” Xander said with another shrug. Before anyone else could cut in with more questions that he really didn't want to deal with, the phone rang. Feeling thankful, Xander got up to head for the bathroom as Mrs. Summers headed over to the telephone.

She picked up. “Hello, Summers residence.” 

Joyce nodded as she spoke, even though whoever was on the other end of the line was unable to see the head motion. “Xander? Yes, he's here.” 

Xander paused on his way to the bathroom, after hearing his name. He listened as Joyce said, “Could I ask why you want to talk to him?” 

Another pause, and Joyce's expression went from normal, to a flash of shock, then gravely serious. She looked over towards Xander, her voice unusually soft. “All right. Xander, it's for you.” 

Xander nodded as he immediately went over to Joyce's side. “What's wrong?” Something in the middle-aged woman's expression, her tone...it had him worried.  _I shoulda guessed something like this would happen, damn it, everything's been going too good in my life lately...not to mention that Fate wouldn't be happy how it didn't get what it wanted, where Willow and I were concerned..._

Mrs. Summers provided no answer, so Xander took the phone from her and held it up to ear. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is Detective Stein of the Sunnydale PD.” Oh yeah. Xander quickly recalled the name.  _The guy that totally had it out for Buffy, when she was accused of killing Kendra._  “Am I speaking to Alexander Harris?”

“Yeah...? Look, what's this about?” Xander decided to cut right to the chase.

“I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, Mr. Harris.” The policeman's voice said, then it paused a moment. “Your father's dead.” Xander blanked out a moment. “Mr. Harris?”

Xander shook his head as if to clear it. “I'm sorry. I thought I just heard you say that my dad's dead. And, and that's just crazy talk!” With his back to the others, Xander didn't see the looks of shock and horror that spread across their faces as the gang got up and started to head over towards him.

“I'm sorry. But I'm afraid it's true; the body's already been formally identified. Your mother found him in the living room about half an hour ago, and called us. Mr. Harris - your dad, he appears to have suffered a deep stab wound from a barbeque fork to the neck, and then bled out.”

“No, no, no way!” Xander denied almost violently. “This is some kind of sick joke. Next thing you know, you're going to tell me is that you think he was killed by gang members high on PCP!” 

Rejection of every single word that he had heard come out of the detective's mouth was the only refuge Xander could find, in his current mental state. Sure, Tony Harris wasn't exactly Father of the Year material, and never had been. But...the man was his dad, for better or worse. 

Tony was the guy who used to host barbeques for the Harris, Rosenberg and McNally families, before he'd been laid off from his job and started sliding down into alcoholism. He was the man who used to take his son and his brother Rory fishing when Xander was five, before Tony had discovered how it just wasn't any fun being the sole person who enjoyed the sport. The male teen just couldn't deal with the fact that...

His father...

Was dead...

And by  _vampires._ It had,  ** _had_**  to be some kind of sick joke. The 'Scooby Gang' spent their nights risking their lives against demons and vampires, creatures of nightmares...their families were supposed to be safe. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen.

“Mr. Harris, please. I understand that this is very hard for you to accept, but I need you to grasp the fact that I'm telling you the truth. This is not a joke; although if it was, as you say, it would be a very sick one. At any rate, I'm afraid we need you to come over to your house as soon as possible, to answer a few questions.”

Joyce reached over and gently took the phone from Xander's nerveless grasp before he could drop it. “Hello?" Pause. "I see. Yes, I'll have Xander there soon.” Mrs. Summers told the detective, then pressed the end button on the cordless phone.

Xander felt the nausea rising within him, the acrid taste already on his tongue. The other backed away, sensing that he was about to hurl; Harris managed to force it back down for a moment, as he started rushing towards the bathroom. He didn't reach it, though, unfortunately. Doubling over, Xander's mouth opened and the contents of his stomach emptied out onto the carpeted floor. He hadn't actually eaten all that much tonight – he'd been saving room for dessert – so most of it was just dry heaving. Violent, painful, dry heaving, but dry heaving nonetheless.

Cordelia went over to her boyfriend hesitantly, unsure. Willow was about to follow her and go over to Xander as well, but after a look from Joyce, she decided not to. Cordy never even noticed; she was too busy trying to figure out what to do or say in this situation.  _?How...how am I supposed to act now...?_

Slowly, hesitantly, the young woman put a hand on her beloved's back. When Xander didn't flinch away, she kept it on him, slowly starting to rub around in circles until the dry-heaving stopped. Without a word, Cordelia then led Xander back to the couch, offering silent, unspoken comfort the best she could.

**Fifteen minutes later  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Mrs. Summers' Jeep came to a halt on the street near the Harris residence. Three police cars were already present in front of the house, and the yellow crime scene tape was over the front door. Grimacing, Joyce opened the car door and her passengers clambered out – Buffy, Xander and Cordelia. Oz's van pulled up behind them and he got out of it once it was parked, followed quickly by Willow and Faith.

The six teenagers and one adult approached the house. Xander was half-guided by Cordelia, the black-haired young man almost running on autopilot after the terrible shock to his system a short while ago. As they approached the house, two uniform policemen came out of the front door, temporarily removing it from the doorway. A few seconds later, two people from the coroner's office carried a quite obviously filled, but thankfully closed, body bag out of the house.

“Is that-” Buffy started to say, before she quickly closed her mouth.  ** _Of course_**  it was Xander's father.

Xander hadn't said anything since the phone call itself, but she'd overheard enough of the conversation, from Xander's end, to know what had killed his dad. A vampire. Buffy knew that Xander wouldn't have made that 'gang members high on PCP' comment if the detective on the other end hadn't said something – probably something about barbeque fork to the neck being the cause of death – that would have prompted it.

The very idea of Xander's father dying at the hands of a vampire...it sickened Buffy. Because she was  **the Slayer**. Okay,  _a_  Slayer nowadays, but still. Killing the vampires in Sunnydale was her job. She knew she couldn't get them all, Buffy knew that people died because she couldn't keep everyone around here safe. And that part always...well, to say it bothered her was an understatement, but Buffy could keep the feeling under control. If by nothing else than by the fact that she was doing all she could to keep things here in Hell-ville from falling apart completely.

She was out there every night killing the vampires...but she had missed one...missed one that had gone on to do something that was one of Buffy's worst nightmares.

She had missed a vampire that had gone after one of her friends, their family. Xander had never blamed her for Jesse's death, and part of her knew that Xander, being who he was, and understanding what they faced like he did, would most likely not blame her for this either. But Buffy couldn't help but blame herself. 

_God damn it! I thought that snitch Willy had made it clear to the vamps and demons around here. I thought they understood that if they went after me or mine, it'd be all-out war!_  Buffy fumed. She tried to distract herself from thinking that if she had patrolled a different route one night, or kept going a bit longer some other night...maybe she could have...could have killed the vampire that had done this...killed the vampire before it could do this...

“I want to see him.” Xander suddenly said, stepping forward towards the cops.

“Mr. Harris-” One of the cops started to say, having seen a few pictures of the young man – granted, when he had been much younger – within the house, and thus recognizing him as the son of the victim.

“He's my father. I want to see the body before you load it into the coroner's van, and take it away to the city morgue!” Xander insisted.

The two orderlies looked at each other, and one of them shrugged after a moment. They put the body bag down and unzipped it enough for the upper half of the late Tony Harris to be seen.

Xander stepped forward and crouched down, looking at the white, bloodless corpse. The bite marks on the neck were clearly visible, so Xander had to find out. He had to know if...

Fortunately, his father's mouth was open. The light from the street lamp was, equally fortunately, bright enough for him to get a good look inside. Xander let loose a soft hiss of air; there was no blood in Tony's mouth, as far as he could tell, and for that much he was thankful. 

At least...at least he didn't have to worry about  ** _that_**. About his father rising again tomorrow night...about needing to stake the vampire with Tony Harris's face.

The others knew exactly what he was doing, of course, but said nothing. Even the cops and the coroner's people said nothing, conveniently looking away. Cordelia noticed and thought to herself,  _Well, if they don't know perfectly well what my boyfriend's doing, then I'll eat my bottom Prada! Seriously, how can they know and not do anything about it? Even I couldn't live in denial forever!_

Xander straightened back up and walked back over to the others. Before he left, he nodded to the cops and the coroner's officials. “Thank you.” Harris said softly, barely able to find his voice again. The cops just nodded as the other two zipped the bag back up and carried it off to the body van. The meat wagon.

“Did he-” Buffy started to say, but Xander immediately shook his head.

“No.” Everyone was expecting him to say something else, but contrary to his normal habits, Xander was doing a pretty good Oz impersonation right now.

The blonde Slayer barely managed to contain a sigh of relief. Xander then took a deep breath, trying to prepare for something that he knew he couldn't really prepare for...

He slowly reached out for Cordelia's hand and took it, holding it tight. Much to his relief, Cordelia said nothing; she just squeezed his hand tightly. There was no sassy quip, or playful insult; just acceptance. Understanding. The unspoken promise of love and support.

The trip from the driveway of his house to the front door couldn't have taken longer than ten seconds, but to Xander it felt more like a century. A millennium, even. But finally, they got there, and started to duck under the crime scene tape to enter the house. 

But then one of the policemen standing just inside the Harris residence held up a hand. “Sorry, but I can't let all of you in.” He pointed to Cordelia and Mrs. Summers, given that one was an adult and the other was holding Xander's hand in a vise-like grip. “You two can come in with Mr. Harris. The rest of you, please stay outside.”

“What?!” Willow protested, “But we're his friends!”

“Miss, this is a crime scene, not a nightclub like the Bronze.” The cop said in annoyance. “For now, just you three.” He pointed to Xander, Cordelia and Mrs. Summers again.

Xander let go of Cordelia's hand and hugged Willow tightly for a moment. Under other circumstances, Cordelia might have been just a tiny bit jealous, but...Xander and Willow had been best friends for years, ever since kindergarten, and given the circumstances...

The Chase girl understood that Xander needed that moment of comfort from his best friend.  _I can live with that. This isn't a competition, and even if it was, I'd win anyway._

“It's alright.” Xander said softly to Willow. “Just knowing you're out here, Will, it's enough.” 

After a moment, Willow nodded, and Xander headed back towards the door. The policeman lifted the tape for the three of them, and they were in the living room within less than a minute. Mrs. Summers scowled when she saw Detective Stein. Understandably, she wasn't even remotely fond of the man, given the semi-vendetta he'd seemed to pursue against Buffy six months ago. Stein had stopped by the Summers house more than once, even when Buffy was gone, trying to see if there was something he could arrest her for; even though the murder charges had been dropped, after the Slayer's friends had made their statements.

“Mr. Harris.”

“My name is Xander.” Xander told the detective. “Mr. Harris is-” He paused a moment. “Was my father.”

“Mr.-” the Detective cut himself off, and then continued. “I'm going to need to ask you a few questions.” Xander nodded, and the police detective started, pulling out a pen from inside his suit jacket. “What did your father do for a living?”

“He didn't do anything." Xander frowned.  _Shouldn't he already know that? Wouldn't he have already asked Mom about it?_  “Dad got laid off from his job a few months ago. Lately, all he did was get drunk, beat up my mother and watched whatever sports were on the television.” Despite himself, Xander couldn't hide all the scorn out of his voice.

“You didn't like your father much, did you?”

“No...not particularly. Not for the last few years, at least, but he's...” Xander paused a moment. “He  **was**  my father. You deal with it, even when it gets bad. It's family. And he was my dad.”

“When were you last at your house, and what was your father doing then?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cordelia asked in confusion.

“I'm trying to establish a definite timeline of events leading up to this incident, miss." Stein then turned back to Xander. “Can you please answer the question?”

“Uh, I left this morning to go to school. I haven't been back here until now, I went to straight to Buffy's house for dinner after school.” Xander replied tersely. “As for what Dad was doing when I left this morning...he was sleeping it off in his recliner chair.” He nodded to the chair in question. “What happened...how...?” Xander started slowly, voice trailing off, unable to find the words.

“It appears someone forced the back door open – we think with some kind of large hammer – and then attacked your father. Based on where his body fell, he was standing by the television when he was attacked.” Stein wrote something down on his notepad. “Do you have idea of who might have done this?”

“No.” Xander replied, entirely truthfully. He didn't know  _who_. He did know  _what_ , however. And telling Stein wouldn't help. Either he already knew and was like the rest of the Sunnydale PD in his unwillingness to face or deal with Sunnydale's vampire problem, or else he didn't know and simply wouldn't believe him.

“Why do I get the feeling you wouldn't tell me if you did?” Stein asked slowly, looking at Xander sharply.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Xander demanded.

“Mr. Harris, your father was almost certainly killed by gang members high on PCP – the MO matches exactly for hundreds of other murders – and you're an associate of Buffy Summers, who is herself associated with those same gangs and a known killer-” 

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Joyce exploded, looking enraged. “My daughter was exonerated of all those charges! Mister, you either you take that back, or I'll sue you in court!”

But Stein didn't even appear to notice the Summers woman's tirade, focusing solely on Xander. “You didn't like your father, and you don't seem to be grieving his loss all that much either. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew something about this incident, had something to  _do_  with this even-”

Cordelia had had enough. She exploded at Detective Stein even while he was mid-sentence. “Mister, what's  ** _wrong_**  with you? My boyfriend's dad just died, and you're treating him like Public Enemy Number One? This is unbelievable! Are you that desperate for someone to blame, that you want to accuse someone with an airtight alibi?!” 

Stein transferred his gaze to her, essentially glaring at her. Cordelia was totally unfazed, though. “Xander had nothing to do with this, and you know it. Plus I bet you just want to drag Buffy into this mess because of the way she made you look like a total idiot, about those bogus murder charges! And you never did find out who killed Kendra, did you? It's disgusting the way the Sunnydale PD just just closed that case and moved on, because Xander and I were there that day those people attacked the library, and one of the 'gang members' broke his arm and another one chased me all the way out of the school!”

“Miss Chase-” Detective Stein started, but he didn't get the chance to say anything else.

“Hey, I'm not done yet!” Cordelia interrupted angrily. “For the record, you're a disgrace to your badge. Y'know, I ought to tell my father about all this; he knows the Chief of Police, and you could soon find yourself doing lone foot patrols at night! I probably oughta call my father's lawyer as well. His name's Holland Manners, at Wolfram and Hart; you musta heard of his law firm, right?”

Now  ** _that_**  got a reaction out of Stein. The plain-clothes detective scowled and straightened up, putting away his notebook. Looking at Xander, he spoke, voice stern. “Don't leave town.” He then walked out of the living room, tearing down the crime-scene tape over the door as he went. The rest of the cops, uniform officers who had been doing their best to pretend they weren't there and that they weren't hearing any of this, quickly finished up their tasks and left as well.

Xander didn't say anything as he embraced Cordelia, holding her tight. He didn't need to say anything, she understood.

**An hour later  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander sat on his bed, turning the Iron Coin over again and again and again in his hand, staring at it. It had been hard to finally convince everyone to go. They had been worried about him and his mother, who was currently asleep after taking a boat-load of sleeping pills. Xander had assured himself that she was alright, and then asked everyone (even Cordelia) to go home. 

He hadn't really wanted them to leave, but he hadn't been able to stand all of them staying here, all night...he needed...he needed time alone, with his thoughts. Cordelia had been the last to leave, she had been unwilling to leave him alone tonight. Neither had Buffy and Willow and everyone else, of course, but...

Cordelia...it was odd how she was the only thing he'd been able to latch onto, with all this. He still...he knew that his mind really wasn't grasping this quite yet. It would hit him, all at once, soon, he knew. His father was dead. Xander knew that in his brain, but he didn't feel it in his heart at the moment.

No. What he was feeling there was rage. Rage and confusion.

Confusion because the back door had been forced open. But if a vampire needed an invitation to get in, then why would it break and enter the premises? That made no sense at all. For that matter, his surly and decidedly antisocial father didn't extend invitations to anyone, he had lived in Sunnydale all his life and knew the unspoken rules as well as every long-term human resident. Not that that necessarily meant he hadn't invited a vampire in...but still, the forced door...and the fact that his mother was still alive, plus Jessica Harris hadn't seen or heard  **anything**  while she'd been upstairs, cleaning his room for once...

It just didn't add up. And it was too well tied to his ongoing fear of Fate dropping the other shoe.

Xander couldn't get over the suspicion...the firm belief...that all this was due to Fate. Why would some vampire go after his father, otherwise? There were certainly easier pickings in Sunnydale, in terms of finding a quick meal. Besides, trying to get at Buffy through him by killing his father was suicidal, and every member of the undead club within the city limits had to know that. Buffy (and Faith as well, most likely) would now go on a rampage, looking for the guilty party, and there would soon be a  **lot**  of collateral damage within the demon community. 

These days the vampires in Sunnydale tended to avoid making waves as much as possible, given their evil and predatory natures. > _Not that that isn't likely to change once a new Big Bad moves into town,_  Xander considered.

Still, as has been said, all this just didn't make sense. And there was only one way Xander knew for sure on how to get an answer to his questions regarding the why, rather than the who. Ask the Jester.

“Asking the Jester about all this won't get you anywhere, I'm afraid.” A stern voice said from behind the young man, as if in reply to his thought. 

Xander turned to face the source of the voice. He couldn't make any details out of the appearance of the speaker, though the voice at least  _sounded_  male; the room was in complete darkness, he had deliberately switched the lights off. Harris said. “So who are you? This Hydra character that seems to be the one messing with my ability to tell people anything?”

The voice laughed. “I am no agent of Chaos, to upset the proper order things out of some misplaced desire for 'amusement', or pure contrariness.” There was a sound of fingers snapping, and the lights in Xander's room went on.

The originator of the voice was an old man. Well, his gray beard was long enough that it had to be on a really, really old guy, but his face didn't have enough wrinkles. The black robes completed the look of some fantasy wizard.  _Not exactly someone straight out of 'Lord of the Rings', but he's pretty damn close._

Xander honestly couldn't help himself. He asked. “Who are you supposed to be, Gandalf the Black?”

“I am the Librarian of Fate.” If the Librarian got the joke, he didn't show it. 

_What, do great cosmic powers not read good books anymore?_  Okay, so Xander hadn't read them either. He had seen those cheesy animated movie versions back when he was younger, though, after Willow had kept babbling about how great the books had been. “Fine, so?” 

“Your father's death was no random occurrence, as you have already guessed. It was an object lesson in the power of Fate, and why you should cease and desist from using the Iron Coin the Jester gave you – you must stop interfering with the order of things. You have already done far too much damage. You are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, granted, but beings such as yourself have no place becoming even an annoyance to the Forces of Fate.” Despite the harsh nature of the words, there was no vitriol in this...being's tone. It was as if the Librarian was giving Xander a lecture, like a school teacher telling him things that the dark-haired youth should already know.

Too bad for him how the Librarian's audience was in no mood to learn that which the higher being was trying to teach.

“You killed my father,  ** _just to teach me lesson?”_** Xander grabbed the lamp off his bedside table and threw it at the Librarian before he even knew what he was doing. The Librarian flickered a moment and the object passed right through the robed being, continuing on through Xander's open window, crashing onto the yard below.

“There is no point in wasting your time that way. I am able to be in as many places as needed to prevent my time from actually being wasted on this little venture, but your time is being spent to no avail. Which brings us to the second thing I am here to tell you. Namely, that you will hand over the Iron Coin, now, and then I will be on my way.”

“You arranged for my dad to die, just in order to get me to give you that thing?” Xander asked, too amazed to even be angry. The thought then came unbidden into his mind.  _Because you can't simply take it yourself?_

“Yes.” The Librarian replied coolly. “Do you understand now? Your interference in the proper order of things has gone far enough. At least when you altered the destinies of the Slayer and her friends before the Jester gave you his coin, you didn't know any better. But now you are deliberately interfering in what must be, and what must come to pass. If you continue to interfere with our plans, more people will die. And their deaths will be on your head.”

“You sick - what the-” Xander spluttered, unable to find the right words. His rage, confusion and terror mixing with an undercurrent of guilt to create an impossible-to-control cocktail of emotions. “What are we, just game pieces to you? Pawns on a chess board? Where do you get off consigning Buffy to death not once, not twice, but  **three**  times? Who gave you permission to start killing people, to make things go according to the way you  _want_  them to? Where you get off killing  _my_ father to teach me a lesson, then threatening that more people will die, and then have the nerve to blame  _me_  for it?! Who the hell gave you the right to play those sorts of games?”

“This is not a game, Alexander LaVelle Harris. This is Destiny, Fate, the planned order of things; call it what you will. And as for your other questions, the Universe must run its proper way. The forces of Fate do not play games, and we do not enact whims. To use a phrase you can understand, we...keep things going. We make sure that even though individuals may suffer and die, this world will continue to exist both now, and far into the future. Your perspective is limited. Were you able to see even a fraction of what I see, you would understand why the Slayer had to die in that underground cavern at the hands of The Master.”

“I don't care how much perspective I'd have! I would never sacrifice Buffy's life like that. I wouldn't sacrifice  ** _anyone's_**  life, as if they were just a cheap disposable pawn!” Xander ranted at the higher being.

“Do not give Buffy Anne Summers that much credit. Calling her a pawn gives her far too much importance. You – all of you here on this Hellmouth – are of a level of insignificance that it is impossible for your minds to truly understand. You have no idea just how irrelevant you truly are.”

“Oh, really? Well, if I'm so insignificant, why are you even bothering to visit me here in the first place?” Xander demanded, refusing to buy what this guy was selling. “'Cause it's not just about the Iron Coin, is it? Seriously. I bet that if you could have, you'd have just arranged for someone to have taken it away from me by now. Uh-uh, Mr. Librarian, not buying any of that. Besides, if we were so completely unimportant, why would you even bother with us at all? Why would you arrange for what happened to my dad, if  **I'm**  so unimportant?”

“You still do not understand. It is not as if it actually takes much of my focus or energy to be here, or to arrange for what happened to your father, or to keep things going the way they should be, here on this Hellmouth. You cannot understand the level of awareness that I possess. You should understand that there are thousands of deaths which occur every second, that I am the ultimate cause of. And it does not happen out of spite, or benevolence, or favoritism; it is simply the natural order of things. Fate. Destiny. But your interference is making waves. Things must go the way we have planned for them. And you must stop your interference-”

“Screw you, pal; I've heard enough of your  **crap!** ” Xander interrupted fiercely. “You think, you really  _ **think**_  that you can stop me by killing my dad? By threatening to kill other people? Free will, pal; if you don't know what it means, look it up! As far as I'm concerned, any deaths that you cause are  _your_ fault, not _mine._ I'm not going to abandon my friends to whatever horrible plans you've cooked up for them! And just so you know, asshole, you've now made this fucking personal. Before, even with what you tried to make happen between me and Willow; it was about my friends-”

“You should not have altered that event.” the Librarian interrupted tonelessly. “You have no idea what the consequences will be, less than a year from now.”

“Whatever! But as I was saying, after what you did...now, it's about  **me.**  Maybe I'm small. Maybe all I'll ever be to you is a tiny little annoyance. But I'll be the biggest fucking tiny little annoyance you've ever seen!” Xander threw the Iron Coin at the Librarian as he shouted that last part, figuring to use it as a weapon. Maybe it wouldn't work, or maybe it would; but Harris figured it was worth a shot. It was all about intent; he wasn't  **giving**  the coin to his enemy, in any sense of the word.

Xander guessed correctly; the moment that the Chaos Artifact touched the Force of Fate, the higher being vanished in a flash of light, an agonized look appearing on the Librarian's face for just an instant. Afterwards, the coin clattered against the wall and then fell to the floor of Xander's bedroom, unharmed.

“You want a war, you prick? YOU'VE GOT ONE!!” Xander hissed angrily, as somewhere in a higher dimension, the Forces of Chaos started 'laughing' wildly.


	9. Episode 8: Lovers Walk Redux

**Disclaimer:**  As per usual, Buffy is owned by Joss/ME/Kuzui/etc. Not me. Sheesh, if I owned it, would I be writing what is essentially a fix-it fic?

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season One

By Alkeni

Episode 8: Lovers Walk Redux

**November 22nd, 1998  
Willy's Alibi Room**

“I'm telling you, Slayer! I have no idea who or what killed your friend's dad. Swear on my mother's grave!! Should anything happen to her, God forbid...” Willy insisted, looking terrified. And he was terrified. Terrified of the short blonde woman who had lifted him a clear foot off the ground.

“You're lying!” Buffy said furiously. “C'mon, Willy - someone  ** _has_**  to have talked about it! If only for the bragging rights to get at me, through my friend's family!”

“Listen, kid, be reasonable! I mean, why the hell would I lie to you and Angel here, when the two of you are obviously ready, willing 'n able to beat the shit out of me? I spread the word about your friends, just like ya forced me to way back when. And you know as well as I do the kinds of demons and vamps that come through my door aren't hardcore or suicidal enough to go after your family, your friends, or their families. HEY!! What the hell-?!” Willy picked himself off of the floor, slowly, rubbing his leg and wincing in pain after Buffy dropped him to the floor.

The Chosen One had a lethal expression upon her face. “Willy, let's get something straight. I'm  _ **done**_  fooling around with you; either you tell me who did it, or so help me I'll-”

“Buffy.” Angel interrupted, stepping forward towards her as the Slayer turned to face him. “He's telling the truth, I can tell. Willy honestly doesn't know who killed Xander's dad.” Before Buffy could say anything in protest, he continued, speaking to the snitch. “But you have your suspicions, I'm sure. So, let's hear it. Who's been talking about Buffy more than usual? Complaining more than usual? Talking a bigger game than they usually do?”

Willy looked at his broken front door, then back at Angel and Buffy. He sighed and replied, “Yeah, well, I'm kinda surprised you haven't heard it already. Old buddy of yours was in here last night, truth be told.” He paused a moment, and then sighed again. “Spike.”

“SPIKE?! That son of a - he's actually back in town!?” Buffy immediately felt a stab of guilt in her stomach, because she had let Spike live back in May. Had made that Devil's bargain with him to stop Angelus and save the world...and now...

_Now he's made Xander pay for my mistake..._

Buffy shook her head after jumping to conclusions, she knew she had to focus. “I told that bastard the deal, God damn it! He and Drusilla left Sunnydale for good, and they got to live. So why'd they come back? And why  _ **now**_?”

Willy shook his head, feeling unnerved by the female teenager's glare. “Uh, no. The loon wasn't with him, actually. They split up in South America few months back, from what he was saying last night. Actually, Spike spent the whole night pissing and moaning 'bout how she left him for a Chaos demon. Oh, and how it was all your fault, Slayer...”

“Where's Spike's new lair?” Buffy demanded, not liking the implications of that.

“No clue.” Willy immediately backed away from Buffy's raised fist, bumping into the bar after just a few steps. “Seriously! C'mon, Slayer, the guy didn't get  _that_  drunk. And hell, he might not have even have set up a new base yet. Look, kid, I know you're upset - but listen, we both know how this works, right? I don't know where Spike is holed up, but I can find out. But you gotta do something for me, okay?”

“You're not exactly in any position to make demands here, Willy.” Buffy spat.

Willy gulped, but then he straightened up. “You're not going to kill me, kid, and neither is your boyfriend. Or else, you'd have done it already. And whatever else you may think of me, I've got a business to run, and Spike racked up a bar tab a mile long. So...”

Angel didn't let him finish, already knowing what the weasel-y snitch was hinting at. “Fine. I'll make sure that whatever money or valuables we find at Spike's place go to you, once you give us his new address.” Angel said firmly.

“What? Angel!” Buffy turned and stared at him. “What are you-?!”

“Buffy, do you want to find Spike as quickly as possible or not?” Angel asked her. He answered his own rhetorical question. “And since we both know the answer's yes, this is the easiest and fastest way to do it. You  _ **know**_  that. Besides, Willy's right, neither of us are going to kill him; at least not tonight, and not like this.”

Frustrated and angry, both because she knew Angel was right and because of this whole damned situation, Buffy let out an angry growl that turned into a scream as she drove her fist into the bar. She poured her anger, her sense of helplessness, her guilt... This is all my fault, damn it...into the punch. The blonde girl pulled her fist back and prepared to hit the bar again, but Angel grabbed her arm. “Buffy. That's not gonna help, and we need to go. Besides, I'm sure Willy got the picture the first time.”

Clenching her fists, fuming and knowing her beloved was right yet again, Buffy let Angel walk her out of the bar. Behind them, the bartender-slash-snitch let out a sigh of relief as he slumped back to lean against his bar.

_Un-freaking-believable,_ Willy thought to himself, assessing the hole made by Buffy's fist. 

**November 23rd, 1998  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander stood up, eyes still staring out the window, like they had for the last nine hours since his 'interview' with the so-called Librarian of Fate. He hadn't even bothered to try to sleep, as Harris had known it was never going to happen. Not tonight. Not under these circumstances.

During the night, he had thought about the situation. There was no doubt that he was totally out of his league here. Plus, this was something that no one could help him with. Sure,  _ **he**_  knew what was going on, how and why his father had been killed in order to teach him a lesson...but the Watcher and the Slayers and the rest of his friends didn't know squat. Because he, Xander, couldn't tell them a damn thing. He was all alone, and unable to tell anyone what he knew. Not even Cordelia. 

Which totally sucked.

Nonetheless, over the past nine hours Xander had come up with a project in his mind. A project that was probably impossible to complete, granted. The Jester, and the Librarian...they both had made clear just how small he was, compared to them, and compared to what they dealt with on an everyday basis. Those guys were on a level which he could clearly not understand or play at. So how the hell was he supposed to become even a nuisance to the forces of Fate, become something that would actually bother them? If they were so much bigger, and larger than life, so to speak...how could he become any kind of serious player in this game? Xander honestly didn't know.

_Still, I have to. Somehow, I have to. I have to keep screwing with them, with their plans, using the Iron Coin. Both of them; neither the Jester nor the Librarian are on my side, after all. And hate to admit it, but I guess that for now, that's all I can do. I have to protect my friends from whatever it is that they're up to. I don't care why they do it. Who knows...maybe there's some kind of greater good that's supposed to come out of all this, on some cosmic level that I can't possibly understand. But I don't care if there is, on account of I can't see things at that level. All I can see, all I know, is that my friends are at risk, and that bad things are going to happen. Bad Things that I am not going to like. Bad Things that I can stop. Bad Things that I need to stop._

Xander took a deep breath. “Dammit, I may not be able to hurt them. But I can use the coin.” He looked at the object in his hand. All night, he'd turned it over in his hand, over and over and over and over and over again. He could probably repeat the motion in his sleep by this point.

Harris looked at the coin, then took a second deep breath. Despite all the months which had passed since last summer, he had never gotten used to the feeling of the visions the coin gave him. Closing his eyes, he flipped the coin. “Buffy Summers.”

The vision appeared at once in his Harris-shaped head.

_Dead children...a merry-go-round, in a park at night..._

_The library on fire...parents screaming...no, yelling..._

_Buffy...Willow – and Amy? They were tied to...they were being burned at the stake?_

Xander shook his head slightly, as the images continued to inundate his mind.

_Two old guys with British accents, they were talking somewhere..._

_An abandoned house, and two other guys were bricking up the windows..._

_“The Cruciamentum is one of our most important traditions, Rupert.”_

_The library. A needle, someone was injecting something into Buffy's arm..._

_A crazed, psychotic-looking vampire giving her too much trouble..._

Xander's head snapped forward as he came back to the here and now, the vision still lingering just behind his eyes. He didn't need to write it down, but what he did need to do was talk to Giles. Find out what the hell 'Cruciamentum' really meant.

Thanks to his Latin lessons over the past few months, Harris knew that the word was way too close to the verb that meant 'to torture' – among other things – for his comfort. And that -nt- meant that it was probably a Present Active Participle. And he was still kind of fuzzy on those.

And whoever was talking about it in that vision – one of those two old guys, he supposed – was talking about it to Giles.

But he couldn't go to Giles. Not yet. Right now, he had more flips to do. More people to flip for. Still, right at the top of his mental to-do list were two words.

_Cruciamentum. Giles._

Taking another deep breath, Xander flipped the coin once more.  “Cordelia Chase.”

Xander immediately fell to the ground, his free hand on his stomach, groaning and pressing down, as if trying to stop bleeding. He had  _ **seen and felt**_  it that time, had felt the iron spike piercing Cordelia's gut as if it was his own, he had felt her agony.

Cursing and trying to ignore the way-too-slowly-fading pain by sheer force of will, Xander staggered to his feet and flipped the Iron Coin again.

“Willow Rosenberg.”

**November 23rd, 1998  
Sunnydale High School Library**

Monday morning class could wait. Screw it, he had other priorities.

“Giles, office, now.” Xander said without preface, walking around the main desk and into the librarian's private office without so much as a by-your-leave. Giles sputtered in surprise for a moment before he walked into the office after Xander, taking off and cleaning his glasses – the fifth time that morning – as he went. 

Rupert never had a chance to say anything, though, as Xander commanded him, “And close the goddamn door behind you.”

Surprised at the boy's tone, the Watcher nonetheless did as he was bid before he turned around and said. “Xander, w-what on earth is going on? Well, I mean, obviously you're...err, after what happened to your father...”

“Unless you want Buffy and Willow and Cordy and Oz barging in and wondering what the hell a 'Cruciamentum' is, then you should also lock the door so we can talk in peace. Don't think I don't know Buffy doesn't trust me the way she used to, and that she wouldn't demand answers neither of us can give her. Especially about something that roughly translates to 'torment' or 'torture' in English.”

Even more flustered and shocked, Giles perched his glasses back on his nose and closed the door. “Xander, uh, h-how did you hear about the Tento di Cruciamentum?”

“Tento...? No, never mind. And to answer your question, the same way that I've heard and learned  _ **everything else**_  that I shouldn't be knowing, Giles!” Xander said, almost pulling his hair in frustration. “You know, I think we need to set up some ground rules here, because I'm starting to go insane with all this. God damn it, I didn't  _ **ask**_  for any of this, Giles! But since I've got it, I'm using it, and if I'm going to use what I know to the best effect, these little Q and A sessions need some ground rules from now on. And rule number one? I need you to  _ **stop**_  asking me how I know things that it makes no sense for me to know. Christ, you already  _ **know**_  it's because of this thing that I've got! You know, the one I can't tell you details about?”

Giles looked even more flustered. “Well, yes, Xander, but still-”

“And rule number two, when I ask you a question about things that I have no business knowing about in the first place, you just answer straight up. Especially given the circumstances, I don't care if you get all stuffy and British about it. My father got killed last night, and I'm not in the mood for stalling or evasiveness anymore. I swear I'll find out some other way if you don't cough up, so for the last time: What. Is. The. Cruciamentum?”

“Ah. Well. It's a, uh, test.” Giles said slowly, looking away and down.

Xander didn't get it. “A test? That can't be what's got you looking so rattled. Good Godfrey Cambridge, you've got the entire library here and then some inside your head! Whatever it is-”

“It's not for me, boy, it's for Buffy. And before you ask, it's...it's not a test of knowledge. Nothing something you can study for and, and be assessed with a pen or pencil. The Cruciamentum is...it's a test of wits, of strength, of resourcefulness for the Slayer, when she reaches her 18th birthday. And it's...the sort of test whether you either pass, o-o-or you die, in, in combat against a vampire.” Giles confessed.

“What the hell!? You want to put Buffy into a 'fight to the death' scenario with some bloodsucker, as part of some  _ **stupid-ass test**_?” Xander looked like he honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“ _ **I**_  don't want to do that, for God's sake! But it's what Quentin Travers, the deputy Head of the Council, will demand that I do later in January.” Giles threw his arms up in disgust. "It's pointless, a-a-and an antiquated barbaric tradition, but it's nonetheless been Council practice for a dozen centuries. And, it can't be stopped, even if I were to refuse to go through with my part in the whole sorry affair. One way or another, it will happen...”

“Oh, Lord. Okay, then let's start from the top.” Xander took a deep breath, trying to force the frantic intensity of out of his voice, from more than just this 'Cruciamentum' thing. An entire morning of flipping the Iron Coin, of seeing the visions...visions that had forever been burned into his mind, even if he lived to be a hundred. Another breath. Xander said as calmly as possible, “What happens during this test?”

Giles looked out the small window and spoke softly, not meeting Xander's gaze. “According to the protocols I've studied, the Slayer's Watcher must use a special spell to put the girl's mind to sleep...hypnosis, uh, all of the Chosen seem especially vulnerable to it. Once, ah, properly distracted, he injects her with a special semi-magical chemical cocktail of sorts. It temporarily suppresses all of her Slayer enhancements, leaving her no more than an ordinary human being in terms of strength, reaction, senses, even knowing a vampire from a non-vampire. Then the Chosen One is, err, locked up in an empty house and she must kill a vampire present therein, um, before sunrise. Alone, and only what materials or makeshift weapons she can find.”

Xander honestly couldn't find the words to reply for a moment. Eventually he spluttered. “How...what kind of sick-”

“Keep in mind that ever since...well, before human civilization began, the Council had only one girl with superhuman powers to fight against all the demons, vampires and forces of darkness throughout the entire world. Waging such a war with such limited weaponry means, uh, means taking a, um, a very cold-hearted approach to the Slayer. And not without good reason. For a field Watcher like myself, it's impossible to stay that cold when you personally know the girl, when it's your job to teach her and train her and you see that she is more than just a disposable weapon, one who-who has no purpose but to protect humanity. The Cruciamentum was simply an outgrowth of that inevitable viewpoint...”

“You sure? Because it sounds to  _ **me**_  like the Cruciamentum's a real convenient method for you guys to weed out the stupid or incompetent Slayers, given the whole 'limited weaponry' thing you just mentioned. Not to mention that if the Slay-gal lives long enough to start thinking for herself, well, hey! Much easier to simply wipe the slate clean and start off with a new one, rather than have to put up with the old one's complaints and arguments! Am I wrong, or what?” Xander asked cuttingly. 

Giles briefly looked startled, and then resigned again. “Perhaps. But as I said, one way or the other, it will happen. If I refuse to play my part, then I'll be fired and someone else will do it. Or, if that proves impossible once she's forewarned, then the Council may elect to just kill her using one its wet works teams. Even Buffy can't survive a sniper's bullet to the heart from five hundred yards away, without even seeing her assassin.”

Xander's eyes were now very, very wide. “You're serious?”

“Deadly.” Giles said, looking away again.

“The hell with that, then! We've still got two months, so you need to warn Buffy what's the what. Not to mention make sure that she can handle the test easy-peasy. Take it from someone who knows the first rule of passing tests: you always cheat if you wanna pass. And we can cheat here, no problem.”

“Xander, the Council-”

“Can go kiss my lily-white ass! Just off the top of my head, I figure I'll send Angel in to hide in that damned house before you and the other guys from the Land of Tweed shove Buffy in there and lock the door behind you. Hell, it's not as if either of us could stop him, once he hears about this conversation. What do they call that, plausible deniability?” Xander demanded. 

Giles smirked for less than a moment. “I-I-I suppose it's possible. But as you say, Buffy's 18th birthday is still some time off. Right now, we have a more immediate concern, namely who killed your father.”

“There's no way you could know who did that already...wait up, who do you think it is?” Xander demanded, getting the impression Giles knew something he didn't.

“Well, uh, Buffy and Angel seem to think it's Spike...”

Xander's reaction was...unexpected. He laughed, a short, harsh bark. “One, I'm pretty damn sure Spike isn't the vamp who killed my dad. And two, why would they even think it was him? He's gotta be somewhere on the other side of the world by now, or whatever!”

“Uh, no. Angel and Buffy went to Willy's last night, you see, to-to try and find out who killed your father. The man claimed not to know anything about that, but Willy did mention that Spike was, um, back in Sunnydale, blaming Buffy for Drusilla breaking up with him. In my view, it makes some degree of sense. Besides, what makes you so sure it wasn't him?”

“Well, think about it, Giles. That vampire had to be invited in, and the hell with that thing of someone forcing their way inside. That was..." Xander briefly choked, unable to speak in order not to violate the Hydra's rules. “And my dad, he wouldn't have had any reason to invite Spike into the house. Now, a teenage female vampire dressed in real skimpy clothes? Far more likely. But unless Spike was pretending to be a rum salesman with fee samples or something, Dad would have told him to get lost straightaway. And I'm not saying that that salesman scenario's impossible, but it just doesn't seem like something Spike would do; at least, not after what happened with Parent-Teacher Night last year.”

Giles had to nod at that. “I suppose so, yes. So what exactly are you saying? Are you proposing Buffy and Angel don't track Spike down and slay him?”

“No, I'm not saying that. That undead asshole should be dusted ASAP, God only knows how many bodies he's left behind him since the 19th century! But still - Spike's not the vampire who killed my father.” Xander looked away for a moment, thinking, wondering. Should he tell Giles about seeing Buffy, Willow and Amy being burned at the stake...?

_No. He'll tell Buffy, he has to. After all, these days Giles doesn't fully trust me anymore, not one hundred percent, just like the Buffster. And once she hears about that, who knows what it'll lead to! I don't have any context for why they're being burned alive like that. But there has to be a reason. Fate has to really, really want them all dead..._

“Alright. That's settled, then. And, um, I'll consider what you said about the Cruciamentum,” Giles said, unaware of Xander's mental musings and assuming the younger man knew something he didn't, regarding William the Bloody's culpability in that other matter. Shrugging, Giles turned to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “Now, Xander, about this latest translation of yours...what on earth possessed you to translate  _Dixit nautam poetam Servavisse_  the way you did? Honestly, don't you recognize and indirect statement by now?”

Xander groaned.  _Here we go..._

**November 24th, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

'Xander, are you sure you haven't, like, totally lost it after your dad was killed?' That was the question which Cordelia wanted to ask Xander the most, and the one question which she knew she shouldn't ask him. He wouldn't take it well. These days, she knew her boyfriend well enough to be sure of that.

Instead she just squeezed his hand for a moment as they sat there in silence on her couch, for now...she was content for them to just be together.

Damn it. The dweeb was holding up so well...on the outside...but then, he always did. Nonetheless a woman knows her man, and so Cordelia could tell, after Xander had shown up at school the next morning, after his father's death...and this morning...

He was having nightmares about what had taken place the other night. She could see the tell-tale signs, small things. Usually she only noticed them when her boyfriend was trying too hard to hide them. And usually around apocalypse season. But now, after the death of his father...

Cordelia Chase swore viciously to herself.  _We so have got to get out of this damn town, one way or another, before it kills us too. Or drives us insane, or whatever._

Granted, there was a new...drive in Xander now. Like he was throwing himself into the helping with the Slaying. Buffy wouldn't let him go on patrol with her last night, saying he was 'too emotional' about it...plus she didn't agree with Xander's conclusions about Spike not being Tony Harris's killer.

Personally Cordelia had to agree with Xander's logic, even though Spike being the bad guy made a lot of sense...because like Willow, and unlike Buffy,she had  _ **actually**_ met Xander's parents. Both in the old days, and more recently after she had finally taken their relationship out of the closet.  _The dork's right, his dad woulda simply told Spike to go screw himself and slam the door in his face; and his mom never even knew anyone had entered the house. And yet someone broke in? Kinda weird, now that I think about it..._

Nonetheless...this drive...Cordelia wondered if Xander would be willing to leave Sunnydale with her now, rather than stay and help in the fight, in order get revenge...for everything. Still, if it wasn't Spike...maybe they'd never find out 'whodunit'. Who had actually killed his father.  _God forgive me, but I can't help thinking that that might actually be the best thing that could happen, so that my doofus doesn't get himself killed trying to do the whole 'avenging son' thing. Oh, Lord, I just want the next six months to be over and done with already, so that I can drag both him and me away from this hellhole!_

“I won't ask how you're doing, because y'know, totally stupid question. But do you think you'll be okay?” Cordelia finally asked her beloved, leaning into him a little.

Xander reached up and stroked Cordelia's hair gently for a moment, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. “I don't know.” He admitted. “The nightmares...they've gotten worse, these last two nights. I just have...I just have a bad feeling...like...” His voice trailed off, before it firmed up. 

“Yeah, Cor, I'll be okay. Eventually. I'm alive...and I've got you...and my friends. I'll make it though this, one way or the other. My mom, I'm not so sure about, but that's something we can discuss another time.” Then he looked at the Chase girl for a moment, just looked at her. His girlfriend. The woman he...yes, he could admit it now, the woman he loved. Had fallen in love with.

Xander bit his lip a moment. “Cordy...there's something I...” His voice trailed off a moment. “The death of someone close to you...kinda makes you think about life...death...the people you care about.” Harris interrupted her attempt to interrupt with a finger pressed gently to her lips. “Cordelia...about us...before...before I found out...about Dad. I, I figured something out...about how I feel about you...and...my dad's death...it made me think...about how either of us could die...die before I told you...” He paused for one more moment.

“Xander,” Cordelia said nervously. “You're...uh, you're starting to worry me-” Xander cut her off with a soft kiss.

“Cordelia Chase, I love you.” 

Cordelia's eyebrows nearly lifted up to the top of her head upon hearing that, but as he kissed her again, she just grabbed Xander tightly and climbed on top of her boyfriend, pushing him down onto the couch and fastening her lips to his like glue. Those three words were something she had been waiting to hear for nearly a year; and so as far as she was concerned, it was time to give herself to Xander Harris completely. 

Mind, soul, and most  _ **especially**_  body.

Not far away, Cordelia's cell phone started to buzz and vibrate.

They both ignored it.

**November 24th, 1998  
Sunnydale High Library**

Buffy slammed down the phone. “She's not answering. Damn it, we don't have time for this. We have to find Spike!”

Oz looked up from the ground, which he'd been examining rather intently since the call had come through from Spike a few minutes ago. He was worried and trying to catch Willow's scent, even if he wasn't succeeding well. Buffy, likewise worried, replayed the recent conversation in her head for the tenth time...

“I've got yer little red-headed friend, Slayer. Come 'n find me, and maybe you'll get her back alive. I won't promise untouched. She does look right tasty, doesn't she?”

“I'll come for her, Spike, don't worry. And this time, I'll dust you - just like I should have last year! You just tell me where Willow is!!” Buffy had screamed into the phone, terrified for her best friend.

Spike had laughed darkly. “Cor blimey, now that'd spoil all the fun, Slayer! Tell ya what, you come find me. And you have two hours, Little Miss Tiny, or Red here ends up my next meal. Maybe even me new bird, if I'm feelin' generous...”

“I can follow her scent. I think.” Oz suddenly spoke up, staring at Buffy. Angel and Faith had already left to try to track Willow themselves, each in their own way. “The full moon is in ten days...that's...barely enough, to let me follow the scent. Now where's the last place we know she was-” 

Oz quickly answered his own question, recalling what his girlfriend had said about trying to use magic to find out who had killed Xander's dad. “Uncle Bob's Magic Cabinet.”

**November 24th, 1998  
Abandoned Factory, Sunnydale**

“Slayer!” Spike said arrogantly from the top of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked somewhat hung over from his drinking binge the other night, but nowhere near as bad as what he would have looked like in another world - one where he had both Xander and Willow as his hostages. “So ya finally showed up. Gaah, I was startin' to wonder if you ever would! Thinking Red and I would actually get to have a little...fun time, together.”

“You son of a bitch-” Oz swore, stepping forward, only to have Buffy put an arm out in front of him. “If you hurt Willow that way, I'll-”

“Oz.” Buffy said, cutting him off. “I've got this.” Then she looked back at Spike, twirling a stake in her hand. “What can I say, Spike, I aim to please. Not you, of course; me.”

“Ya know, it would have been a lot more pleasing if you'd come alone, Slayer.” Spike said, looking around and suddenly catching a familiar scent. “Or at least if ya didn't bring Captain Forehead over there. What happened to a fair fight?”

“When were  _ **you**_  ever in favor of a fair fight?” Angel asked in amazement, stepping forward a bit.

“What can I say, mate?” Spike spread his arms wide mockingly. “I like winning.”

“Then let's get this over with, Spike.” Buffy said, gesturing as the brunette Slayer showed her face as well. “I'd like to introduce ya to Faith, she's Kendra's replacement. And do you remember the little tussle you, me and Kendra had in that church, last year? Well, this time, you're not walking away after fighting two Slayers...”

“Yeah? Well, sod that, luv - voila!” Spike stepped back and three vampires came out of a doorway on the bottom level. New recruits from Willy's bar. “Let the fun begin, then!” 

Angel took two stakes out of his pocket and tossed one to Oz, then charged at the vampires, the teenage werewolf following close behind. Faith was already battling her own opponent.

“You deal with Spike!” Angel shouted to Buffy, as he fell onto one of Spike's minions, knocking the other away with a kick to the chest and grappling to get his stake into his opponent's chest. Oz ducked under the remaining vampire's punch, then took a hard fist to the side, but pulled himself to his feet before his opponent could get much advantage out of it.  _That's going to hurt in the morning._

Buffy didn't even bother to use the stairs. She literally ran at them, grabbing the rail and using it to vault herself up to the upper landing with a jump, landing with a roll from the shoulder, stake in her hand when she rose to her feet. She had less than a second, though, before Spike was upon her.

“Nice plan, Spike. But gee, did you actually think you could pull it off? Did you  **really**  think I'd be stupid enough to come here alone?” Buffy taunted as she ducked under his punch and kicked him in the leg; but Spike turned, taking it on the side of his leg, rather than the shin or knee, and then he grabbed her arm, twisting it towards him.

“Gotta say, Betty, that if you think this is my entire plan? Then you know bugger all about me...” 

Without another word Spike released Buffy's arm and stomped, hard, on a section of the landing's wood plank floor. It gave way under his foot immediately, the floor cracking around the hole, and Spike then grabbed the railing, jumping away from it, as the entire landing started to cave in. "Ta-da!"

Panicking, Buffy grabbed the door handle leading into the nearby room, holding on for dear life as she saw the spikes Spike had set up below the landing, clearly waiting for her. Naturally, she recalled the stories of how Spike had gotten his nickname back in the 1880's - killing people with railroad spikes through their brains...

“Not bad, but you must have eaten your Crazy Flakes this morning if you thought that would work!” Buffy shouted as she pulled at the door handle, letting the door swing free with her hanging on. And then she she used the momentum to swing herself back towards Spike. “Ta-da!”

Spike's eyes went wide with disbelief as Buffy's legs connected with his chest, sending them both over the edge, away from the deadly spikes. Buffy maneuvered Spike to serve as cushion for her landing, but the peroxide-blonde vampire twisted and managed to get them to land on their sides, the wind knocked out of both of them. “Ow. Oh, bloody toffing hell...” William cursed.

Sensing movement Spike rolled over, as Angel came at him, stake in hand. Buffy clambered to her feet, holding her side and fighting back the urge to wince in pain, but before either of them could deliver the killing blow...Spike was on his feet and running for the door. He reached it, both vampire and Slayer running after him.

“Another time, you lot!” William the Bloody said with a smirk, and then he was out the door. 

Making sure that Faith and Oz were okay and helping dispatch the remaining two vamps, Buffy and Angel then tried to catch up to Spike. But, he was already on the street heading for his Dodge DeSoto... 

...before a black van pulled past him, the side door sliding open and two men in black masks pulled a loudly protesting Spike inside.

Just for a moment, Buffy caught a glimpse of a familiar face as the door closed, before the van roared off down the street. 

It was Mr. Trick, giving her two thumbs-up, an arrogant look of victory on his face.

“Willow,” Oz said simply, before racing back into the abandoned factory to look for his girlfriend. Faith quickly followed after him, and they headed down into the basement where the Rosenberg girl was waiting; bound and gagged, but more or less okay

Outside, Angel finally stopped Buffy from running after the van. “Buffy. It's too late, they're gone! We'll have to deal with Spike another time.”

Out of breath and feeling infuriated, the blonde Slayer nonetheless finally acknowledged her undead lover was right.  _Damn it, I hate it how he always makes so much sense these days..._

“Another time.” Buffy repeated the words venomously, staring after the  van and feeling strangely cheated. “Another time, Spike, I promise you...”


	10. Episode 9: Meeting the New Boss

**Disclaimer:**  Not mine, not ever. You don't even want to know all the things I'd change if I owned BtVS.

**Author Notes:**  You'll probably notice that alarmingly little happens in this chapter, and that is in large part because very little is intended to happen. We've had some heavy plot/groundwork episodes recently, and there is a need to bridge some gaps and cover some ground until things pick up back to the major plot again.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 9: Meeting the New Boss

**November 24th, 1998  
Mayor's Office, Sunnydale**

Spike was, to say the least, not having a good Tuesday night.

First off, his plan (such as it was, thanks to the hangover) to use Willow to do a love spell to get Drusilla back had had to be abandoned. His backup plan to use the red-haired witch to kill off the Slayer and the Magnificent Poof had gone down the gurgler as well. His ultimate backup plan – namely, get the hell out of Sunnydale – had also been rudely interrupted, just as he was heading for his car.

One couldn't deny that William the Bloody was not used to being bodily manhandled and dragged into a moving van. The whole thing was made worse by the fact that a black hood that had been shoved over his head and his wrists had been clamped into handcuffs. Five minutes of pulling at the enchanted handcuffs – vampire strength, they bloody well HAD to have had some mojo put on them – and attempting to hit any of his attackers with his legs, had yielded no results. Normal handcuffs, even the best quality police ones, meant nothing to a vampire; especially not one of his age.

“So, who the bleedin' hell are you lot, and what do ya want with me?” Spike demanded after he gave up attempting to free himself.

“The name's Trick.” said a man's voice with a accent from the American South. It reminded Spike about the last time him and Dru had been down there. Southerners were so tasty. All that grease, butter and fat they ate... He shook his head and forced himself back to the present.

“Can't say I've heard of you. So what do you want, mate?” William demanded.

“It's not about what I want, bro. It's about what the boss wants. If it were up to me, I'd have left you there going up against the blondie Slayer. Hell, just let you two kill each other, and you're both out of our way. Or else she kills you. But for some reason, the boss wants to give you a job.”

“A job? Sorry, mate, but I don't do employee of the month.”

“I told him the same thing, a while back.” Trick's voice said, and Spike didn't need eyesight to  know his fellow undead (there was no breath or heartbeat associated with the voice, he could tell that as well) had just shrugged philosophically. “And yet, here I am. On account of this is one cat you don't want to piss off.”

Finally, still blinded by the hood, Spike was yanked out of the van, into a building and up two flights of stairs. He was then shoved into a room, pushed down into a chair, and the hood removed from his face.

Huh. Rather than some sort of intimidating demon, or at least a Master vampire, all Spike could see some fatherly-looking, middle-aged human – someone who smelled normal, and even looked normal. “What the hell is this, mate? You're working for a soddin' bloodbag?” Spike demanded, assuming 'Trick' could hear him.

“I'd watch your language, Mr. Pratt, if I were you. Or should I just call you Spike?” The human spoke up, folksy charm permeating his voice. “The name's Richard Wilkins. I'm the Mayor of Sunnydale.” He gestured to Spike's wrists. “Ah! Let's get rid of the handcuffs, shall we? We're all civilized men here, I'm sure. Let's just have a nice, polite, productive discussion...”

A black-skinned man stepped closer and unlocked the handcuffs around Spike's wrists. Spike took immediate advantage of the tactical error, elbowing the black vampire in the face and lunging for the human on the other side of the desk. His claws were almost on Wilkins when some kind of unseen force shoved him back into the chair, and held him immobilized.

“Now, now, Spike. I'm getting the feeling you just aren't a team player.” Wilkins said with the same broad smile he'd had before, his voice lacking none of its previous charming tone. “And if there's one thing I don't like, it's a man who insists on not being a team player. And you don't want to get on my bad side, do you?” He reached for a plate next to him and held it out to Spike. “It might make me reconsider my previous orders to not send a committee out to deal with you, once and for all. Snickerdoodle?”

“What the hell do you want, you bloody git?” Spike growled, still trying to free himself from the invisible shackles holding him immobile.

“Your loss.” The Mayor set the plate down, then took one for himself, biting into it with gusto. “Now, since you're new here, I'm not going to hold your language against you – this time. But if you keep it up, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on Mr. Trick washing that dirty mouth of yours out with soap.” Wilkins finished his baked treat and steepled his fingers. “Now, Spike, I have to admit; you showing up back in my town wasn't something I counted on, at least not this year. But then again, you do have a way of surprising people. By the way, thank you for turning on your old friend Angelus during that whole Acathla mess! It would have set my plans back quite a bit, to have had this world end up sucked into a hell dimension.”

“And what are  _your_  plans then, Mr. Mayor?” Spike stretched the title with a sarcastic pop. “Take over the world?”

“One thing at a time, Spike, one thing at a time.” Wilkins replied with a smile. “Are you sure you wouldn't like a Snickerdoodle? They're actually quite good.” He offered the plate to Spike again.

“Can ya just get to the point of this little meeting, or were you plannin' to talk my ears off?” Spike demanded, deciding to play this cool for now. The bloodbag would let his guard down soon enough, despite the mystical forces he could obviously command... "Trick mentioned something about a job?"

Wilkins set the plate of Snickerdoodles down again. “Straight to business. Well, I suppose we can do that. I understand that since you've gotten back to Sunnydale, you've been working on a plan to kill the Slayer; one of them, anyway. And while I can't help but admire that go-getter attitude of yours, if you're going to work for me... well, I'm going to have to insist that you stop. While she and her little friends may be a nuisance, and I'm going to kill them all sooner or later, obviously... I don't want them dead just yet.”

“And why would that be?” Spike looked around, upon receiving no answer, even if the rest of his body was still immobile. “I suppose you'd frown on me lighting up a cigarette right about now too, wouldn't you?”

“Of course I would. Nasty habit. Put you in an early grave.” Wilkins laughed good-naturedly for a moment, which suddenly gave Spike cause for concern. “Well, I suppose not you, but you get what I mean. If you want to smoke, do it outside of my office. And make sure you don't smell like nicotine when you're in here. I like to work in a clean, healthy environment. Mmm, delicious...” He ate another Snickerdoodle, then got back to talking. “Now, the Slayer – or rather the Slayers, I should say, have proven quite useful at getting problem areas in my town dealt with. The downside of setting up shop on a Hellmouth is that everyone  ** _else_**  wants to use it to end the world. And really, that's just such a bother. So for the time being, you don't touch the Chosen One. Either of them.” 

He clapped his hands together, as if just getting an idea. “I've got it! Tell you what. When the time comes to kill the Slayer, I'll let you be the one to kill her. You get Miss Summers, Trick here gets the Lehane girl, and everyone goes home happy. Assuming you're going to be a team player, anyway.”

“Yeah, assuming. So what would I be doing as a 'team player', exactly?” Spike drawled.

“Oh, you know, various tasks here and there. I've got a lot to get done this year, and unfortunately, the Slayers are going to be prowling around, noticing things I don't want them to notice. So while they're busy obsessing over you, Mr. Trick here can get matters handled without any major difficulty. And I may need you to deal with one or two problem areas as well.” Wilkins took an orange envelope out from a desk drawer and handed it to Spike. “You'll be well paid, and I'm sure you'll find working for me quite fulfilling. So, the question is, Mr. Pratt, do you want to be a team player?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Spike asked casually, as a wooden stake suddenly lifted itself up off the table and aimed itself at his heart.

“Why, Spike, whatever do you mean?” Wilkins asked with a smile, coming over behind him and giving Spike's shoulder a friendly squeeze. One that had William the Bloody wincing with pain, despite his undead nature.

 “Well, a bloke does like makin' up his own mind, y'know. And you're kind of forcing me into it here.” Spike said, the stake's pointed tip already pressing against his chest.

“Now, now. Forcing is such an  _ugly_  word. I prefer to think of it as 'clarifying one's options'. You  ** _do_**  have a choice, after all.” Wilkins said cheerfully.

_Yeah, either work fer you or end up a pile o' dust. Some choice **that**  is!_ “What the-” Spike paused, recalling what the Mayor had said about watching the swear words. “What the heck. I'm in.”  _Bloody hell, mate! How do you land yerself into these messes?!_

“Excellent! Now, if you don't mind?” Richard's hand suddenly shifted to Spike's head, and the vampire hissed with brief agony as the demon-worshipping sorcerer laid a binding spell – a geas of loyalty, like what had been done to Trick – upon him. The compulsion was to ensure that his vampire servants could never turn against him, evil soulless bastard that Wilkins was. “There we go, all done.”

“Welcome aboard, Spike,” Trick smirked at his new co-worker as the invisible force field vanished, and the stake clattered to the floor – Spike's destiny suddenly veering away sharply from what it otherwise would have been, as William the Bloody cursed silently at the invisible leash he could now feelaround his neck.

**November  25th, 1998  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Cordelia Chase woke up, finding herself buck naked and her head resting on Xander’s equally naked chest. A moment later, all the memories of the previous evening came back.

_Oh my God! I lost my virginity to my boyfriend last night!!_  Cordelia thought to herself wildly, panicking slightly. This was because she honestly hadn’t planned on going all the way with Xander for a while yet. Not that she was the type of girl that wanted to wait until she was married, of course; if a Hellmouth High education had taught her anything, it was to live life to the fullest while you still could. Too many people she knew had either died or simply vanished, since she was a little kid.

But still, as said, she'd been planning to wait another few weeks until Xander's eighteenth birthday. It would have been one hell of a birthday present, too. Cordelia mentally smirked to herself; she'd bought a set of revealing lingerie and underwear, plus matching panties with a giftwrapping-style bow on them, plus a tight see-through top that she filled out very well – which also had a bow on it. When she'd modeled the clothing in her bedroom the other day, the young woman had known she looked like a very hot Christmas present. One that would be given early to Xander this year, on the day of his birth. 

Still, while she might still use the outfit – hey, she looked absolutely incredible in it! – Cordelia figured she'd have to come up with a new birthday present this year, as she'd more or less given the old one to him last night.

_The dweeb finally told me that he loves me,_ Cordelia thought happily to herself, treasuring the words her boyfriend had spoken last night – before she'd climbed on top of him and virtually raped the guy. Good thing that her parents were away, and the maid had left the house for the evening.  _And I guess I was finally ready to take our relationship to the next level, or whatever. Mmm..._

“I could definitely get used to this...” Cordy said with a soft smile, as she snuggled closer to her sleeping boyfriend for a few moments. But when she glanced over to check her alarm clock, she saw what time it was. 

_Damn it!_  Cordelia swore inside her head. “Xander!” The Chase girl then said urgently, as she propped herself up on one elbow and shook her boyfriend urgently. “Wake up!”

“Huh? Cordy-?” Xander said fuzzily, not recognizing where he was. Then the memories came back for him as well, and his eyes went wide as he sat up. “ **Oh!** That, that, that wasn’t just another highly erotic dream-?”

“No -” the brunette started to say, before she stopped. Then Cordy said, “Wait –  ** _another_**  erotic dream? You have erotic dreams about me?”

“Sure.” Harris admitted. “Along with just about every other guy that goes to our school! And not that I'm complaining or anything, but last night, why did you...?”

Miss Chase sat up, but held the covers to cover herself somewhat. “I know. I mean, I guess it was just a spur of the moment thing...y'know, after everything that's happened with your father.”

“Well, gotta admit, it certainly helped keep the nightmares away.” the former virgin joked, still trying to deal with the enormity of what had happened the previous evening.

“Sure, go ahead and laugh!” the cheerleader said crossly, slapping him on the chest. “It was our first time, for both of us, and all you can do is -” 

Cordelia never got the chance to finish that sentence, as Xander took her in her arms and kissed her. Kissed the ever-lovin' hell out of her, actually. Once he finally let go, she said dazedly, “Uh, what was I saying...?”

“You love me. And I love you.” Xander said seriously, staring deep into her eyes and making Cordelia's heart flutter. “And...”

“And look at the time, you so need to get out of here!” Cordelia said urgently, pointing at the alarm clock and shoving Xander out of the bed. “Get your clothes on, right now. And climb down the balcony onto the patio, and then go home.”

“Ow! Honey, that hurt.” Harris complained, rubbing his butt over where it had landed on the soft, thick carpet.

“Oh, don't be such a baby.” Cordy chastised him. “Besides, I’m supposed to get up for school soon. And do you really want the maid to see you come out of my room, and tell my parents that we spent the night together as soon as they come home?”

“Good point.” Xander nodded, as he hurriedly jumped out of the bed and started to put his boxers on. As Cordelia put her robe on, Harris gathered the rest of his clothes from all around the bedroom and started getting dressed.  _Wow. I had sex. Me, Xander Harris, had sex. And with a real live girl. Man, I can't believe I had sex with a real live girl last night!  And that she was Cordelia!_  

After the guy had finished dressing, he moved to the balcony doors of the bedroom. “Cordy? See you at school later on today.”

“Yeah. You bet you will.” Cordelia smirked, as she disappeared into her private bathroom for a quick shower.

Xander shimmied his way down to the ground floor, and then started sprinting across the lawn to get home before his mother woke up. Hopefully, she wouldn't have noticed how he never came home last night; but if she had, equally hopefully she'd just put it down to the stress of Tony Harris's death, and him not wanting to stay in that house for any longer than he had to.

_Hey, at least Mom likes Cordelia, if I have to admit the truth, Xander cogitated to himself, as he left the grounds of the Chase residence and started to slow down to a swift walk._

**November 25th, 1998  
Sunnydale High, Sunnydale**

Xander walked through the halls of Sunnydale High with a spring in his step, feeling stupidly happy. Indeed, for the first time in a long time, Xander's happiness was one hundred percent genuine, no affectations or acts at all.

It wasn't the fact that he'd had sex that was the source of his happiness – though that was, in its own way, very much of the good – and it wasn't even that he'd had sex with Cordelia Chase, the hottest, most sought-after girl in Sunnydale High. No. It was that he had made love to the woman that he loved. That his relationship with Cordelia had ascended to a whole new level.  _God, that sounds incredibly cheesy...and yet, I don't give a crap._

Xander tried again, and failed, to control the grin on his face. Things weren't perfect – far from it – but...he now had a shard of pure, unadulterated happiness, and he was going to hold onto it for as long as he could. As long as he possibly could.

Still, as he approached the door to the library, Xander managed to get grin under control, at least a little. He had no intention of spreading the word, even to his friends. Cordelia wasn't a prize to conquer and then brag about.

Inside, Buffy and Faith were going at each other with wooden staffs, sparring intensely. As he entered the room, Xander could almost see the excess anger that Buffy was working off with every attack, the ferocity and speed of her moves forcing Faith onto an uncharacteristic defensive tack.

What the heck...? He must have missed  _something_  last night.... Xander wondered about that as he looked around the room. Giles was behind the main counter checking textbooks in, and Willow and Oz were sitting pretty close together at the main table, speaking quietly. Rather than interrupt-slash-disturb them, he went for Giles, leaning on the counter.

“What's eating Buffy?” Harris asked conversationally.

Giles didn't even look up at him. “If you hadn't been completely unreachable last night, you might have some idea.” The librarian 'answered' with a somewhat terse tone. “Where on earth were you?”

The Watcher, for his part, didn't actually regret Xander's absence last night. It had all worked out well without him, and besides, it was fairly obvious that he'd been spending time with Cordelia – when the call was made, and judging from Xander's expression when he'd entered the library, the young man would have been rather distracted anyway had they managed to get in touch with him. Rupert could remember what it was like being that age, and so didn't begrudge Xander his happiness with the cheerleader, as surprising as the match seemed to his way of thinking.

No, the thing that bothered Giles, and the real reason that he was being short with the boy, was far more important; and far more subtle. A part of him – and not a small part, though not the largest – wasn't sure if he could or should trust Xander anymore. While the underlying person was the same, Xander was not behaving the same way...and the mysterious source of his information was hardly to be trusted, accurate though it may be. To lie was simplicity itself, but to lie with the truth was a higher art. And whoever the source was, he or she hadn't reported anything about what would happen to Willow, which meant Xander couldn't forewarn him of every major happening to befall his charges.

Giles mentally shook his head. He had to admit, he did not like unknown and potentially dangerous elements around his Slayers; and unfortunately, such dislike might be coloring his attitude. Whatever else, Xander remained Xander, that much was true. Rupert suspected he wasn't being fair to Xander, though he did have every right to at least be somewhat cautious regarding the information the boy received.

“I...I was with Cordy at her place. What'd I miss?” Xander said, answering Giles's prior question.

Letting out a momentary sigh, Giles explained: “Xander, Willow was kidnapped last night. By Spike.”

A mixed look of horror and concern spread across the young man's features as he turned around to look at Willow...she had seemed fine when he'd entered...but the way she was carrying herself, the way she was holding Oz's hand tight enough to have white knuckles? Willow was holding up, but...he could tell...now that he was looking... “She's fine, though...I mean, he didn't – I mean, she looks fine, physically, that-”

Giles shook his head, interrupting Xander. “She wasn't harmed physically, beyond being chloroformed by Spike. She was just bait, as it were. But that damned vampire threatened to turn her into his new...ahm...partner, once he'd killed Buffy – luckily, though, as you can see, neither of those eventualities happened.”

“And the Buffster dusted that son of a bitch in the end, right?”  _Spike went after Willow...and I wasn't there to help! I mean...I suppose...hell, I **I wouldn't** have been all that much in the way of help...but still._ “No, wait.” Xander realized. “He's not dust, is he? Spike got away, and that's why Buffy is so pissed off right now.”

“Quite.” Giles responded.

“So what exactly happened? How did he get away? Did Spike have some kind of escape route planned ahead of time?”

Giles shook his head. “It would not appear so. He called Buffy and told her that he had kidnapped Willow, and that she had two hours to find him or she would be dead. And he wouldn't say where he was. Luckily, Oz managed to track down her scent. Although he told her to come alone - as you might expect – she didn't. She took Angel, Oz and Faith with her, who handled the minions Spike had on hand. Oddly enough, he actually had a moderately decent, if thoroughly uninspired, trap set for Buffy, as an additional layer to the whole thing.” 

Xander raised an eyebrow and Giles elaborated, “Spike waited for her on the upper level of the factory, after he'd weakened the floor significantly, with a whole host of rebar spikes waiting underneath for her to fall on. She didn't, as you can see, and in the ensuing fight, he managed to run out of the building. Buffy followed...and that's where things got, um, strange.”

“Strange? For something in Sunnydale to qualify as 'strange', it's got to be pretty out there.” Xander said knowingly. “What the hell was it?”

“Ah, err, Spike was pulled into a black van – against his will, given his apparent struggling. Buffy spotted that Mr. Trick vampire within the vehicle, she saw his face for a moment. It would appear he decided to save Spike, although for what purpose I have no idea.”

“Alright. How upset is Buffy that I wasn't reachable?” Xander asked frankly.

“Not very. Spike getting away has driven other, smaller issues, out of her mind, I'd say. I wouldn't bring it up, though.”

“Alright.” Xander nodded, and then went over to where Willow and Oz were sitting. He sat across the table from them.

“Giles told me. How are you holding up, Will?” Xander asked softly.

“Oh, I'm -” Willow cut herself off a moment. “No, I'm  _not_  fine. But I'll manage. We've been through a lot of bad things. This is just one more.” She forced a small laugh. “Heck, it's not even the first time I've been kidnapped!”

“Alright.” Xander looked to Oz. “Thanks.” He said softly to the werewolf. Willow was, whatever else, his best and longest friend, and Oz had been instrumental in saving her life. The werewolf just nodded back. There wasn't anything else that needed to be said. They would both, for their own reasons, do everything they could to protect Willow, when it was needed.

That was when something truly dawned on Xander Harris. For the first time since he'd gotten the Iron Coin from the Jester, something truly major had happened, and he'd not foreseen it. Which meant Fate hadn't planned it...but...

The image of Cordelia falling through those basement stairs...and that spike piercing her gut...flashed across his mind. _I don't know how...but that was probably supposed to happen then...if that was supposed to happen...damn it, what the hell **else**  was supposed to happen there, last night? Was Fate just taking advantage of something Spike would have done, anyway...or did the Iron Coin simply not show me everything?_

For the first time, the real limits of his foreknowledge really hit home in Xander's psyche. He wasn't omniscient, even if he constantly used the mystical artifact to try to detect the bad stuff coming. Well, not just the bad stuff, of course; but hey, Hellmouth. Whaddya expect?

But still, he wasn't all-knowing thanks to possessing the Iron Coin. Not in any sense of the word. He was...just a tool for the Jester, and the forces of Chaos. Something to stick it to the Librarian, and the forces of Fate.


	11. Episode 10: How to Conduct a Witch Hunt

**Disclaimer:**  Nope. Don't own it.

As always, thanks to my beta readers: My girlfriend and Starway Man (Yes, I have my girlfriend beta-read my stuff. Sue me. :p)

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 10: How To Conduct A Witch Hunt

**January 12th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Don't tell me to calm down, Giles!”

_Spike again?_  Xander absently concluded that it had to be, as he walked into the library. The blonde vampire had been at the top of Buffy's shit list ever since they’d encountered each other nearly two weeks ago, during that nasty battle during New Year’s Eve.

In Xander’s opinion, Buffy had developed...issues concerning Captain Peroxide. She was better than she'd been immediately after the vampire’s escape from the old factory, after he’d kidnapped Willow; but every time Willy sent the older Chosen One word of a rumor of a sighting of Spike, things immediately flared up again. Spike was still in Sunnydale, that much was clear – he'd even left her a taunting note, to that effect. But where he was hiding out, or what exactly he was up to – the details were missing.

The only thing that had gotten Buffy even more worked up than Spike and his whereabouts had been when that weird demon had haunted Angel’s dreams, and he’d had visions of his past victims following him everywhere he went. 'The First Evil', or whatever. Even though the Summers girl and Angel weren’t officially together anymore after she’d realized that what she wanted from him, she could never again have...

...it wasn’t that easy to let go of the guy she loved, especially when Buffy was doing guest-starring roles in his dreams.

But still, that was all in the past now, and Xander kinda doubted Buffy’s rant was in any way related to her ex-boyfriend.

“I-I-I only meant...” Giles started slowly.

“They were kids, Giles. Little kids! You don't know what it was like to see them there. My mom can't even talk about it!”

_Okay. Not what I expected._

“I'm sorry, Giles. I...I just, I’ve never seen my mom so upset like that.” Buffy bit her lip and looked away.

“I know. Joyce, uh, is a good woman, so i-it’s perfectly natural.” Giles went to the central table and sat down on it, reaching for his mug of tea.

Xander cut in. “Sorry, what's going on? I mean, what are you guys talkin’ about?”

“You haven't heard yet?” Buffy seemed surprised. “It was all over the news this morning!”

“Buffy, you know me. I don't go in for the news. You generally don't, either.” Harris pointed out.

“Yeah, but Mom had it on the entire morning.” The Slayer paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I went out patrolling last night, like usual, and Mom just sorta showed up in the middle of a fight. Weird as, she was acting like a mom-shaped Slay cheerleader! I had to chase after a vamp and she walked right into seeing them, in the park playground. Two kids... eight and six, maybe... and they were... just dead. It was...” Buffy's voice trailed off, lost for words.

_Oh good...God..._  That sounded far too familiar. “What park?”

Buffy gave him a name. Xander bit his lip; he knew that park. And he knew its playground equipment. “There's a whole host of good childhood memories just tainted.” Harris muttered. At Buffy's look, he added. “When we were in second and third grade, Willow, Jesse, Cordy and I played there a lot.”

“Do we know how the two children died? It wasn't a vampire, I take it?” Giles took a sip from his tea.

“No.” Buffy shook her head for emphasis. “There weren't any marks.” Then she frowned, “No, wait...there was this mark...more like a symbol...” she grabbed a pen and quickly grabbed a book to sketch what she’d seen. Giles hurriedly reached over and took it from her, before the pen connected.

“Twelfth century Papal Encyclical.” He handed her a notebook. “Here, use this.” Nodding, Buffy drew something on the paper and showed it to Giles. Xander came around to get a look at the symbol.

“It was on their hands. The cops are keeping it quiet, but I got a good look at it. Find me the thing that uses this symbol and point me at it.” After a 'hmm' from Giles, Buffy added, “Hmm what? Giles, Speak.”

Startled from his thoughts, Giles explained. “What? Oh, sorry. Um, no, it... I just wonder if we're looking for a, uh, thing. The use of a symbol on a victim like this suggests a, a ritual murder, and a cult sacrifice by a group.”

“A group of...human beings? Someone with a soul did this?” Buffy's expression matched Xander's own feelings on the matter – disgust. Of course, people killed people. People killed kids. Even in Sunnydale, sometimes it is just people...

_But if it’s a cult,_  Xander thought to himself, _it’s probably a cult dedicated to some demon or another. Hey, Hellmouth. The odds are certainly in favor of it._ He'd read enough comic books to understand that. Plus, yea, it was the Hellmouth.

“I'm afraid so. That would be the most likely scenario. The question is what significance the symbol had to the murder, be it about some sort of demonic patron, or perhaps a means to garner some power directly through sacrifice.” As he spoke, Giles crouched next to one of the bookshelves and started scanning the titles, selecting books.

“Okay. Then while you're looking for the meaning of that symbol thing-y, could you also find a loophole in that 'Slayers don't kill people' rule?”

“Buffy, don't be an idiot.” Xander cut in before Giles could say anything. “That Detective Stein guy is already itching for an excuse to throw you behind bars, remember? And do you really think, with the way things tend to work out around here, that doing something like that won't come back to bite you on the ass – somehow? Let's ignore all the moral stuff for a moment, because really, crazy people who kill kids because the demon in their heads told them don't really get to live. But you going to prison isn't the solution, either.”

“So what are you saying? That I should just let them get away with it?!” Off Xander’s look, and recalling that his dad had been murdered nearly two months ago and she  ** _still_**  hadn’t found out for sure ‘whodunit’, Buffy exhaled slowly, biting her lip a moment. “Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Just – I need to find out who did this.”

“I’m sorry too.” Xander echoed her sentiment. “Shouldn't have called you an idiot.” Buffy nodded and headed out of the library.

Once Buffy was safely out of the room, Xander approached Giles as the Watcher piled more books on the table. “Need to talk to you, British man.”

“Hmm? About what?”

“Those two kids – Buffy, Willow and Amy are going to get burnt at the stake in a few days, now that that’s come to pass. With piles of books instead of...wood, or whatever it is they used in the Salem witch-hunts. I think right here, in the library, though I'm not sure.”

Giles looked at Xander, looked at the books, and then looked at the symbol Buffy drew. Then his gaze flew back to Xander. “How-” He instantly cut himself off, recalling that angry conversation back in November when Xander had confronted him about the upcoming Cruciamentum. Rupert simply asked, “Is there anything else that you know?”

“Uh-uh.” Xander admitted softly. “I saw the kids, I recognized the Park – same place where Buffy said this happened at. But the only other thing I know is...burning at the stake.”

“That may narrow things down... but... I don't see the connection.”

“Me neither. Hell, there may not be a connection... I don't know. But in a few days, it’s gonna happen. Unrelated or not.” He gestured to the computer. “When you see Willow, tell her that I'm going to need her to get any information the police have found.”

“As you wish. Ah, Xander, I suspect we should consider worst case scenarios... if Buffy, Miss Madison and Willow are indeed in deadly danger that way...” Giles trailed off.

Xander nodded. “I’ll talk to Amy. I mean, hey, aside from cursing Deadboy with a soul, the only major thing Will’s been able to do mojo-wise is float a pencil...”

**January 12th, 1999  
Cafeteria, Sunnydale High**

“So,” Oz noted, as they all sat down, with Buffy still in line getting food. “Buffy's birthday next week.”

“True. Still trying to figure out what to get her.” Xander noted.

“How do you get a gift that says 'hope this birthday doesn't suck as badly as your last one'?” Cordelia asked, looking around.

“Well, it’s just a thought – but I’d say we start by not jinxing ourselves, y’know, by making comments like that?” Willow shot back. “Positive thoughts, people!”

“Positive thoughts about what?” Buffy asked, taking a seat next to Amy and Willow.

“Just that test in History that's coming up tomorrow.” Xander lied calmly.

“Wait, there’s a test?” Buffy looked around, that half-confused, half-a little bit afraid look she did so well on her face. At the look on everyone else's faces, she laughed a little. “No reason to worry about it. This is one test I have down.” Then she sighed, her expression returning to the one she'd had all morning.

“What's wrong?” Willow asked. “Buff, you don't seem so good.”

“I'm not. You guys didn't hear?”

“Hear what?” Cordelia asked, eyeing the high school cafeteria food with distaste. She'd been in such a rush to get to school this morning... _spent too much time lounging in bed with Xander..._  that she'd forgotten to grab something from home, and had to settle for the slop which they served here. Her dad had gone on  _another_  business trip. But, since he'd taken mom with him, and Cordelia had been able to bribe the maid to go home early every evening... Xander was free to spend the night at her place, and had done so, all week.

Jessica Harris had figured out what was going on eventually, of course. When pressed, Xander had eventually confessed that he was sleeping with Cordelia. The red-haired middle-aged woman hadn't seemed that bothered by it, all things said, but she had rather sternly warned her son to make sure he used protection each and every time; the Widow Harris did  _not_  want to become a grandmother yet.

Cordelia agreed with that sentiment wholeheartedly; she was only eighteen, and she so wasn’t ready to have a kid yet thanks to a moment of crazy passion. And granted it sucked that her parents still didn’t completely approve of her boyfriend; but the cheerleader was sure that by the time high school was over, she’d have talked them around to her way of thinking. It wasn't just the sex – but there was that, too... she smiled a little unconsciously.

Cordelia’s smile dropped from her face as soon as she heard what Buffy was saying, though: “A murder. Somebody killed two little kids.”

“Oh... God, no...” Willow said softly. “Wait – somebody? Not a demon or anything?”

“Giles doesn't think so.” Buffy answered. “They were like...seven or eight years old?” She guessed, going on. “Mom found the bodies during patrol last night.”

“Oh my God...” was Amy's response, echoing Willow.

Oz's reply was characteristic: 'Kids?'

“And big surprise, my mom's completely wigging. Why did she have to pick last night, of all nights, to come along and make patrol a surprise bonding visit?” Buffy complained.

“Wow, your mom would actually take the time to do that with you?” At Buffy's look, Willow hastily added, “No, sorry. Not the point.” She looked up. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Summers.” Buffy's head snapped around to see her mother standing behind her.

“Oh, hi everyone.” Buffy's mom said softly, looking like she hadn't slept.

“We, we were just talking about what happened last night.” Buffy said carefully.

“Oh, it's so awful. I-I had bad dreams about it all night. Buffy, have you talked to Mr. Giles yet about who could have done this?”

_Nightmares? Oh, yeah, I believe that._  Xander hadn't seen Mrs. Summers looking so vacant... so... flying on autopilot before.

“Yeah. He, uh... Giles thinks it might be something ritual-related. A cult. Uh, he's still looking. In the meantime, we're gonna add to my patrol and, and, y'know, keep an eye out.” Buffy shifted around in her seat.

“A cult? You mean...like witches?” Xander, Willow and Amy lit on that jump of a conclusion. Two of them for the same reason. Willow coughed audibly.

“Sorry. Phlegm. Too much dairy.” she covered.

“Oh, I-I-I know you kids think that stuff's cool. Buffy told me you dabble.”

“Yeah, right. Absolutely. Hehe... That's me. I'm a dabbler.”

Oddly, Joyce Summers continued on as if Willow hadn't said anything. “But anybody who could do this isn't cool. Anybody who could do this has to be a monster. It's...”

Buffy interrupted. “You know what? Uh, would you guys excuse us for a little bit?” She got up and led her mother out of the cafeteria,         the older woman getting out a 'nice to see you' to the others before she was led away from the table.

“What a burn.” Xander said, meaning it. “I mean, Buffy's mom was just starting to accept the whole Slayer thing, and now she's gonna be double-freaked.”

Willow's response was to smile. “Makes me grateful that my mom's not interested in my extra-curricular activities.” Amy smiled in turn, but then Willow frowned. “Or my  _curricular_  activities, for that matter.”

“Well, you can't really blame her.” Cordelia noted. “Buffy's mom, I mean. Of course she's gonna freak. Personally, I'm kinda surprised we're not  _ **all**_  freaking every hour of every day, given what happens in this damned town. I mean, I can't be the only person who has nightmares about all this stuff, can I?” Of course, she knew she wasn't, but Cordelia wasn't going to talk about Xander’s nightmares for him. If he wanted other people to know, he'd tell them.

“Well...no.” Oz said. “I suppose not.”

“Exactly. You know, it’s easy to get down on Buffy's mom over how she handles this, but...heck, every morning I half expect to wake up a raging crazy person.” Cordy laughed hollowly at the looks that crack earned her. “Okay, that's enough open heart surgery for the moment.”

**January 12th, 1999  
City Hall, Sunnydale**

The Scoobies, plus Amy, walked into the main conference room to the big cluster of people – easily fifty, sixty, seventy even, at least. All of them waving signs containing pics of the dead kids, and the words 'Never Again' in big red capital letters. The crowd was agitated, and very animated.

Buffy smiled. “This is great. Maybe we could all go patrolling together later.”

“Patrolling?” Xander said. “Jeez, Buff, all they need are some pitchforks and torches, and we'd have a lynch mob ready to go.”

“Maybe they could do a bake sale.” Oz suggested. “So they could buy the pitchforks and torches.”

Willow looked around at the signs. “Wonder where they got the pictures from?” Her tone was idle, curious. “I mean, the police don't even know the kids' names yet.”

“What the hell was Mom thinking?” Buffy demanded, after one of the crowd started shouting that action was needed NOW.

“You could ask her.” Xander pointed. “And, hey – she's talking to your mom, Willow.”

“What? What's she doing here? My mom never-” Willow cut herself off and both she and Buffy went over to their respective parental units. Xander gave the room a quick sweep with his eyes, just to make sure that his mother wasn't here either. Though, to his lack of surprise, she wasn't.

“That's good.” He murmured.  
   
“What's good?” Cordelia asked him, suddenly noticing that they were alone. As Amy had wandered off to the edge of the room, and Oz had followed after Willow.

“My mom's not here. After seeing Willow's mom here, I half expected to see her here.” Harris looked again. “Well, this is less exciting than I hoped. Wanna sit over there,” He gestured to some chairs, “while we wait for this to be done? May as well get comfortable.”

“Sure.” Cordelia and Xander walked over to the chairs and sat down. Cordelia pursed her lips softly, thinking, then she said, “While we wait for something, God forbid, interesting to happen, want to talk movie quotes?”

“We could. What movie?”

“Princess Bride?”

“Didn't we already do that one?”

Cordelia shook her head. “Nope. Probably because it seemed so obvious.”

“You're sure?” Xander was positive they'd done that movie before.

His girlfriend looked at him pointedly. “Xander. We haven't.” Cordelia tossed her hair back. “So, I'll go first. And none of the obvious ones.”

“Oh, come on, 'hello my name is Inigo Montoya' is a classic! It’s the best takeaway from the whole movie.”

“Yeah, but it’s the one everyone picks.” Cordelia pointed out. Then: “It’s probably some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise... at night... though eel infested waters.”

Xander shook his head. “No. Definitely: ‘I've hired you to help me start a war. That's a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition’.” Xander got the voice down perfectly. “That's a better Vizzini line, hands down.”

“I'll grant you it sounds good in the voice, but that's not even close. 'You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass.' is a better line.” Cordy shot back.

Xander shrugged. “Not really my style. Of course, they all pale in the face of the classic Vizzini line.”

“Of course they do. But we can't use it.”  
   
“I switched glasses when your back was turned, haha you fool-” Xander started, then cut himself off, looking at Mrs. Summers speaking at the podium. “Okay, did she just say what I think she just said?”

Cordelia nodded. “If you think she said 'It belongs to the monsters and, and the witches and the Slayers', then yeah.”

“Which-”

“Doesn't sound like her at all.” Cordelia finished her boyfriend’s thought off perfectly. “And everyone else gets it too.” She nodded to Buffy and the others, all coming towards them, given their location on the edge of the room.

“Hey, Buffy, you have any idea what's up with your mom?”

Buffy shook her head at Xander's question. “No. I don't. But something's not adding up here. The police don't know who these kids are –  _no_ one knows anything about these kids' lives... just their deaths. Where are their parents?  **Who**  are their parents?”

“I don't know.” Xander admitted.

“Exactly.” Buffy said. “And witches – Mom just jumped straight to ‘witches are evil’ back at the cafeteria this afternoon, and then here – and you talked about lynch mobs, Xander.” She looked around the room, at all the people chanting 'Never Again' over and over and over and over. Giles was coming towards them, making his way through the agitated crowd.

When he finally reached them, he spoke. “Well... that was... unexpected. At least it’s good, I suppose, she didn't mention Watchers...” No one laughed.

“Giles, do you have any idea who these kids are? If the police don't know – and no one recognizes them? No one knows their names? Their parents? Where they went to school?”

Giles shook his head. “None of the people here seem to.” Giles said.

“And Mom – why is she bringing up the whole witches thing? And the way she said ‘Slayers’... and the kids.” Buffy was still latching onto them, the puzzle. “We know about their deaths... but not their lives.” She repeated. She murmured it again, as if on the cusp of something...then she said, “It’s like...it’s like they sprang out of the ground, already dead or something...”

The Summers girl looked at Willow. “You need to find more out. More about these kids. They're the key.”

Willow nodded. “Definitely.” She looked back at Sheila Rosenberg, at her mother raising up a sign and chanting 'Never Again' alongside the others. “The sooner things are back to normal... well, the less weird everything will feel.”

**January 13th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“These kids-” Willow brought up some search results. “Here's what I found.” It was a newspaper article, with the dead children right there, next to the newsprint.

“Look at the date. Fifty years ago.” Willow brought up another one. No picture, but the headline was telling.

“1899. Utah... Two Children... Rural Community Torn Apart by Suspicion.” Oz said softly, reading over Willow's shoulder. “But still no mention of who they are?”

“A hundred years ago? How is this possible?”

Cordelia looked at Giles. “Hello. Hellmouth?”

“But when it happened fifty years ago, and a hundred years ago, it wasn't here in Sunnydale. And, and there's no Hellmouth at either of these locations...” Rupert looked confused.

“Oh, hey, it gets better.” Willow bit her lip and brought up one more. “It took me a while, but I managed to find stuff like this happening every fifty years, right on schedule. In rural Italy, in 1849. Poland in 1799. England 1749. Germany, 1699. And Germany again, 1649.” Willow stepped away from the computer to let Giles have a look at some kind of scanned book, hand written, a hand-drawn picture of the two children – in exactly the same pose as the pictures on the signs.

Giles sat down at the chair and took a look. After a moment, he started to translate. “Written by a cleric from a village near the Black Forest. He... found the bodies himself. Two children... Greta Strauss, age six...Hans Strauss, eight.”

“So they have names.” Xander said softly. “That's new.”

“Hans and Greta. Six and eight. Guys! It’s Hansel and Gretel. That's why it’s, it’s witches. That's why my mom's like that – that's why those jocks were going after Amy and Michael earlier!” Buffy exclaimed.

Giles nodded. “Of course. There are demons that prey on humans – not directly...but by fostering hatred and, and...persecution amongst the mortal animals. They feed not by destroying men, but by men destroying each other. So, they feed us our darkest fear and turn peaceful communities into a hotbed of vigilantes.”

“Hansel and Gretel run home to tell everyone about the mean old witch...” Buffy stated.

Giles continued. “And then she and probably dozens of others are persecuted by a righteous mob. It's happened all throughout history. It happened in Salem, not surprisingly. Not these two, specifically, but some other kind of fear or paranoia demon.”

“How do I stop them?” Buffy demanded.

“I don't know... if we can identify the demons... there might be some spells, incantations that could lift the illusions they're using to mask themselves, to trick people-”

Before Giles could get into full Watcher mode again, Amy burst in. “Principal Snyder is coming this way. He's got a bunch of cops with him – they're checking every locker. Taking away any kids that have 'witch stuff' in there. Books, herbs... anything. And I heard them talking – they're definitely going to hit the library too.”

Giles got indignant. “How dare they-!” He abruptly cut himself off and looked at Xander.  _Books, burning..._  Xander had the same thought.

“Giles. What are the books that would have the spell you'd need to stop these things?” Xander was instantly all business.

“I-I'm not sure.” He rattled off five titles, two in Latin and three in German. “If that loathsome little man is coming here, though, it would be best to get them out of the library – out of his sight.”

“Drop them out the window. I’ll go outside and grab them. And maybe one or two more really important ones. Where are they, anyway?”

Giles stood and started pulling the books off their shelves. He entered the cage to grab the other three. Oz opened the window just enough for Xander to drop books through two at a time.

“Carefully!” the Watcher admonished him, simply unable to help himself.

“You want these books extra crispy? Didn't think so.” The last book was thrown out through the window right as Snyder and four policemen came in.

“Mr. Giles. You know why we're here?” Snyder demanded smugly.

“Because you're a twisted little fascist troll.” Giles said. “Get out of my library.” He pointed to the cops. “And take your, your marauders with you!”

“I love the smell of desperate librarian in the morning.” Snyder took a sip from his coffee mug, as the cops started gathering books off the shelves and tables.

“You can't do this. It’s not even legal!” Buffy said, looking at the Sunnydale PD uniform officers as they silently threw the books into a pile on the floor to be taken away.

“I believe I can, missy. Oh, you can fight it if you want. Just remember, lift a finger against me, and you'll have to answer to MOO.” Snyder smirked nastily as he said that part.

“Answer to MOO? Did that sentence just make some sense that I'm not in on?”

Snyder just looked at Buffy a moment, and then decided to humor her. “'Mothers Opposed to the Occult.' A powerful new group.” He sipped his coffee again.

“And what moron came up with that lame-ass name?” Buffy demanded.

“That would be the founder. I believe you call her Mom.”

**January 15th, 1999  
City Hall, Sunnydale**

Joyce beamed cheerfully at her daughter, completely under the influence of the Hansel and Gretel demon by this point. “Now then, Buffy, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Okay?”

Buffy looked uncertain, glancing around at Willow and Amy; who were tied up at the stake, just as she was. “Mom, you don’t want this...”

Her mother looked somewhat annoyed at hearing that. “Since when does it matter what I want? I wanted a normal, happy daughter. Instead, I got a Slayer.” Sheila handed Joyce a torch with which to light the bonfire and the blonde woman said to her, “Thanks! This has been so trying, and you have been such a champ.”

“Oh, you too, Joyce,” Mrs. Rosenberg replied perkily.

“We should stay close. Have lunch,” Joyce offered.

Sheila nodded. “Oh, I’d like that. It sounds very nice.”

The book pile kindling was finally set aflame, and at that moment, the two supposedly dead children appeared. “They hurt us,” the little girl said.

“Burn them!” added the little boy.

There was a brief disturbance near the back, as Oz tried to force his way through. “No! Stop!” he shouted.

Various members of MOO quickly grabbed and restrained the male teen. The full moon wasn't due for weeks yet, and the werewolf was Joe Normal apart from those three nights a month. But then Faith, Giles and Xander showed up, and the dark-haired Slayer instantly smashed the glass door of the nearby firehose box.

“Stop her!” Joyce yelled to her followers.

Too late; the dark-haired Chosen One quickly turned on the water, and sprayed the gathered people with the pressurized liquid to force them back. Xander went to release Buffy and Willow, as the people holding Oz finally let go and he rushed towards the captive females as well. Giles started chanting in German, casting a spell to make the demon appear in its true form and release its thrall on the townspeople.

“Faith! Water!” Xander yelled. The flames were now too high for him and Oz to approach any closer.

“On it!” she yelled back, and quickly doused the flames. The rescuers then quickly got to work.

Giles saw the so-called ‘children’ approach him, and quickly finished the spell. He then smashed a potion bottle on the floor at their feet. As the fumes enveloped them, the pair turned to each other and embraced. Their outlines quickly shifted and grew, changing into one huge-ass demon.

“Okay, that’s different,” Xander muttered to himself, momentarily taken aback at the demon’s unorthodox reaction before he and Oz released the women.

“Oh my God!” Joyce said, eyes wide as she was released from the demonic mojo. The rest of the MOO organization suddenly decided the climate would be more congenial elsewhere and began running away.

“Protect us! Kill the bad girls!” the giant demon growled with an inhumanly deep voice.

“Yeah, y’know what? Not as convincing in that outfit,” Buffy muttered. As the demon charged towards her, with her hands finally free Miss Summers grabbed the wooden pole she’d been tied to and shoved it into the demon’s left eye, as soon as it was close enough.

“And they all lived happily ever after. Oh, and that’s no fairy tale,” the blonde Slayer quipped in relief as the Hansel and Gretel demon fell down dead. Just to make sure though, she took the knife that had cut her ropes from Xander and cut the demon up for a few minutes. It had played dead once before.

**January 15th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“So, wait, you decided to let yourselves get tied to stakes and get burned?” Cordelia looked from Willow, to Amy, to Buffy. “What the  ** _hell_**  were you thinking?”

“The demon wasn't showing itself – the bodies of those two kids had vanished from the morgue. Hey, it seemed like the best way to get the thing to show up.” Buffy shot back.

“And if it hadn't? We'd have had Crispy Buffy. And a side of Crispy Willow and Crispy Amy!” Cordelia snorted in disbelief.

“No, Cordelia. Amy cast that flame-retarding spell on all three of us. We wouldn't have gotten burned-” Willow started to say.

“Well, not immediately.” Amy cut in. “If we'd been there for much longer, though? I don't think my spell was  _that_  powerful.”

“It was powerful enough.” Willow pointed out. “You've really got this magic thing going for you, huh? I’m actually kinda jealous.”

“Thanks.” Amy said with a smile.

“Well, it all worked out in the end. Giles came in, said some stuff in German and threw that- magic grenade?” Buffy added.

“Ritual focus potion.” Giles supplied, re-shelving his previously confiscated books.

“Whatever. And then the two kids turn into this one demon – really just freaky-looking. Xander cut the ropes tying my hands while everyone else ran, and afterwards I killed that damned thing before we got rid of the remains.”

“You all but turned it into a demon-burger.” Xander said. Then he screwed up his face in disgust.

“You're not getting that image out of your head anytime soon.” Oz said sagely.

“Not ever, I think.” Xander looked at his hands a moment.

“Yes, well, to change topics completely, Buffy, I need to speak to you a moment, in my office.” Giles gestured as he straightened up. Buffy looked confused for a moment, but followed him in. Giles closed the door behind her.

“Wonder what that’s about?” Faith asked, who had remained silent up until now.

Only Xander knew, or at least thought he knew, what it was about. Buffy’s birthday was only four days away; thus it was time for her to learn what the Cruciamentum was.

One could only hope that a Slayer-shaped bomb didn't explode out of the librarian’s office in the next few moments...


	12. Episode 11: Helpless, not Hopeless

**Disclaimer:**  Not mine, and never has been.

**Author's Note:**  You'll notice the new cover art for this fic. It's been created by Ironbear, and it's totally cool. So all credit unto him for his work on it.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

**Author's Note #2:**  As might be evident by now, I tend not to include scenes in this fic where Xander isn't present. I do sometimes, if they are substantially different than a scene which happened on the show, or are a scene that doesn't appear at all in canon and is important to the story I'm advancing. This is because Xander is the main character of the story, and the primary window into this universe. However, there are times when it is unavoidable, and this chapter will contain many scenes not featuring Xander, due to its nature. As the Iron Coin Chronicles acquire more drift, as it were, from the original show, we'll see more and more such scenes; though where possible, I'll try to home in on events in scenes where Xander is the primary focus, to keep the main narrative frame in place.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season One

By Alkeni

Episode 11: Helpless, not Hopeless

**January 15th, 1999  
Giles' Office, Sunnydale High Library**

Once Giles closed the door to his private office, Buffy looked at him in curiosity and concern. “So, what's the dire?”

Giles started to reach for his glasses before he spoke. Halfway up to them, he seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall to his side, and then Giles put it inside his pocket moments later. 

“Before I go into details, Buffy, please bear in mind that I...well, by rights, I shouldn't be telling you this at all. If the Council becomes aware that I've confided toyou about this matter, I would be fired, at the very least. If I'm unlucky, that might well be the least of my concerns.”

_What? Not listening to the Council? That doesn't sound all proper and British-y..._  Buffy resisted her urge to crack a joke. Giles sounded...serious. “Okay. I'll bear that in mind. So, what is it you gotta say to me, Watcher mine?” Really...he was making her feel a bit...just a little bit worried.

“Buffy. It's almost your eighteenth birthday...which means that the Council...in their 'infinite wisdom', has decided to go forward with...a...with a rather archaic exercise in barbaric cruelty. Please, let me finish.” He cut Buffy off before she could speak, the girl had already opened her mouth to demand answers. “You need to hear the background facts first.” 

“So, fact me.”

Giles sighed. “For the past twelve centuries, when...or rather, if...a Slayer survives to reach her eighteenth birthday, she is subjected to a, a so-called rite of passage known as the 'Tento di Cruciamentum'. It's a test designed to the Slayer's resourcefulness, skill, cleverness. Something that, these days, in entirely pointless. Something that, um, has been pointed out to me not only eliminates the, err, mediocre Slayers, but the ones that might get too independent for the Council's taste. Because it's – it's the sort of test wherein failing it means dying.”

Buffy gripped her hands into fists, biting her lip a moment against her immediate reaction. She took a breath. “The Watchers Council – the people that you work for – wants to put me to though some kind of stupid test...which if I fail it, means I die?”

“More, rather...that if you die, you've failed the test.” Giles corrected softly.

“This is a joke, right? You decided to practice that whole humor thing? Bit of a tip, talking about the other person dying doesn't usually work for making it funny!” Buffy yelled.

“Buffy, this is no laughing matter. The deputy head of the Council, Quentin Travers, is already in Sunnydale, preparing the testing ground. If – if you do not undertake the test, or they learn I have forewarned you in defiance of the rules, they'll start with replacing me as your Watcher. And after that, it's entirely possible the Council will resort to more...direct means to deal with the situation.”

“That's British for 'killing me?'” Buffy glared at her pseudo-father figure.

“As a last resort. More likely kidnapping you and forcing you into the testing ground, locking you up after injecting you with the requisite drugs. The Council has quite a number of wet-work teams, you see. Err, they're usually deployed for handling humans that work with or aid demons, but over the centuries they have been used to...well...terminate Slayers that are considered...unruly.”

“And you actually  _work_  for these people?” Buffy looked around a moment, hands still gripped closed. She looked back to Giles. “Geez. So I have to take the test, unless I want to deal with the Council trying to kidnap and/or kill me. That's great! Alright, tell me the rest. What exactly is this test? What do I have to do to pass?”

“I...well – as your Watcher, there's a particular hypnotic spell that Slayers are...unusually susceptible to, which I must administer. It will put you into a deep trance...then I am to inject you with an organic compound... a combination of muscle relaxants and adrenal suppressors, and just a touch of magic, of course. It will temporarily – for a few days – suppress your strength, speed, coordination, and enhanced senses. Render you entirely...normal, for lack of a better word, in your abilities. After that, either immediately or within a day or so, the plan is for you to be trapped in the abandoned boarding house on Prescott Lane.” 

Buffy knew that place – she'd seen it on patrol often enough. Even checked it out once, in case a vampire nest had moved in. Now she wished she had burned the place down, while she'd had the chance...

Giles finished up, “Inside will be a vampire...and you must slay it...or die trying.”

“What kind of-” Buffy stopped, and started to raise her voice. “What kind of sick test is that? What's it supposed to prove? That the Watchers Council is run by a bunch of-”

“Buffy, please.” Giles cut in.

“Don't you 'Buffy, please' me! This is just – totally wrong. The Council – you can tell the Council to shove this whole 'test' thing-y up their asses, I'm not gonna go through something like that if I don't have to!” the Slayer shouted.

Giles released a hollow laugh. “Buffy, do you  ** _really_**  think it's that simple? The test has been tradition for over a thousand years. I can't stop it – and they won't allow it to  ** _not_**  happen, whatever you do or say in defiance of the plan. Do you honestly think there will be no consequences, with you simply refusing to take part in the Cruciamentum after learning what my superiors have in mind? That's why I'm betraying all the oaths I've sworn, by telling you all this...I can't put your life at risk like that. I - I can't betray your trust like they want me to. But...my colleagues will notice if your Slayer abilities have not been suppressed, you'll have been put under surveillance by now. And I cannot interfere in the test...but I believe there is a way that we can...minimize the risk, while still appearing to conform to the rules.”

“How?” Buffy bit out. “By having me drink so much holy water so that when the vampire drinks my blood, he'll dust from the inside out?”

“Actually, that was tried once, believe it or not, with a number of condemned criminals. Those men were given various doses of holy water blessed by the Pope himself, from a single sip to literally drowning in the stuff. It, uh, didn't work.” Giles looked faintly embarrassed by the admission. “But, ah, I had something a little more practical in mind. I can't interfere, and you can't go in without having been injected with the drugs...but neither of us exactly control Angel, do we?”

Buffy caught on immediately – staring the possibility of death in the eye tended to focus the mind wonderfully well. “Right. Gotcha. But this is still a sick, sick concept.” And then she looked at the door. “Wait up, what about Faith? Are you going to tell her about this?”

“Perhaps. The thing is, you see, the Cruciamentum is not universally supported on the Inner Council, despite how Travers is one of its chief proponents. If the test is...interrupted by Angel, I think it might cause him and his allies some...acute embarrassment. If the Council doesn't end up getting rid of the test by the time Faith is eighteen...well, given the Cruciamentum will be public knowledge before this is all over, I believe we can find some way around it when it's her 18th birthday as well. But what's important is that we get through this, now, alive and without the Council firing me and sending some twat like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce to be your Watcher instead.”

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?” Buffy echoed the name. 

“One of the latest crop of youngsters, not all that long out of the Academy. His father is highly connected, and his family is, uh, I believe the term you use over here is 'old money', with regards to the Council. I'll grant the man is brilliant when it comes to the theory, from what I've seen, and his facility with even the most obscure and arcane demonic languages is impressive. However, Pryce is even more married to the Slayer Handbook than most, and without any proper capacity for fieldwork. Unfortunately, he's either too stupid, arrogant or both to realize just how hopeless he is in practice. And he's one of Travers' protegees.”

“Ah.” Buffy cocked her head a moment. “Ya know, the Council still hasn't sent Faith her own Watcher yet, after her old one was killed and Mrs. Post-It ended up a one-armed bandit. You taking care of both of us was supposed to be just temporary, right? And knowing our luck here on the Hellmouth...”

“Oh dear Lord, you'd best be wrong.”

“Either way, should probably go tell Angel.” She looked at him, smiling a little. “It's eating you up having to go to Angel for help, isn't it?”

“It is somewhat...unexpected, yes. But I've been considering this problem for a while...and I've had time to get used to the idea that Angel might be the best solution.”  ** _Now_**  Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them.  _Good Lord, I can only hope that Buffy doesn't ever find out how the real reason I told her all this today, was because Xander forced me into it – and it was **his**  idea to use your undead lover to foil this blasted test..._

**January 15th, 1999  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

Angel looked at Giles, as the Watcher finished explaining the Cruciamentum. Despite the situation, Angel actually laughed for a moment, an ironic smile finding its way onto his face as Giles tensed up. 

“When I was Angelus, I heard rumors about all that, oddly enough. Nineteenth century, people loved to gossip; even members of the Council. Never really believed the stories were true – I didn't think you people were that stupid.” He glared pointedly at Giles, eyes darkening for a moment. “If you hadn't told Buffy about this – and she'd died while undertaking this 'test'? I'd have killed you afterwards. And anyone else involved.” There was no menace in his tone, no bluster. Cold, deadly even, seriousness. But really, there wasn't even that. It was just...flat. There was no need for emotion or tone in such a declarative statement.

“Angel!”

Giles shook his head. “No, Buffy, it's a fair statement. Though Angel, if Buffy had died, I don't believe you'd have had a chance to kill me before I went and got **_myself_**  killed by going after Travers and his ilk.”

Buffy looked from her not-longer-boyfriend to her Watcher, then back again. “Well, whatever. Point is, Giles  ** _did_**  tell me. So let's just focus on the issue at hand, alright? Not dying is a pretty good thing to focus on. Pretty much the first rule of Slaying.”

Angel nodded, and then looked to Giles. “This vampire Buffy will have to fight. Is it just some fledgling, or –”

Giles shook his head. “If only we were so lucky that it was a specimen like that, abducted off the streets. It's Zachary Kralik.” 

“Kralik the butcher?” Angel demanded, as Giles nodded. 

“Who?” Buffy wanted to know.

Giles sighed. “Over a century ago, the man tortured and killed more than a dozen women before being caught and put into an asylum for the criminally insane. Unfortunately, a vampire was running the asylum as a front for his, uh, nefarious activities. He turned Kralik into one of the undead, and the monster has, by all reports, continued exactly as he did before his death. The Council captured him three years ago.”

“For the next Slayer to reach eighteen, and use in the Cruciamentum?” Angel demanded.

“Perhaps, depending on the Slayer. More likely for a number of 'experiments'.” Giles replied. 

“This man you mentioned before, that Travers guy...he chose a psychotic like Kralik on purpose, didn't he?” Angel asked knowingly. “Thanks to what happened a year ago, on Buffy's 17th birthday. Because this is payback as far as the Council's concerned, isn't it? I mean, if it had been Kendra...they'd have given her some stupid fledgling who still had dirt behind his ears, someone she could kill with one arm tied behind her back. Your bosses don't want Buffy to survive this so-called test, do they?”

“Angel!” Buffy yelped, unable to help herself.

“No, again, it's a fair enough question.” Giles sighed. “One for which I honestly don't know the answer. Unfortunately, there are many on the Council who think that Buffy is indirectly responsible for all the murders that Angelus committed last year...and there are those who understand she did the best she could, under the circumstances. But that's neither here nor there at the moment. The important thing is that Kralik is here in Sunnydale right now, and once it's time, he'll be released. And you'll both be trapped inside the Sunnydale Arms with him.”

“And if he kills me? What's the Council's plan for this 'Kralik' guy then?” Buffy snapped, still upset by the thought that some of those hoity-toity jerks in England considered her to be an accessory to murder.

“I, ah, believe the standard procedure is to simply burn the building down, during daylight hours. Given the technology of the day, they might even go so far as to blow it up to ensure that that demented creature does not survive or escape.” Giles shrugged.

“Alright. Can I just ask again: You  _work_  for these people?” the Slayer simply couldn't seem to get past that topic.

“Buffy, while the Council – and particularly some of its less pleasant members – has its...blemishes, as an institution, it does do good work and serves to prevent the world from being destroyed.”

“Blemish? Is  _that_  what you call...what did you call it? A, an 'archaic exercise in barbaric cruelty'?” Buffy said incredulously.

Giles cleared his throat and removed his glasses once more. “Well...yes, I suppose 'blemish' was rather a, a poor choice of words. Understatement. But my point still stands. The Council is not as completely villainous as the Cruciamentum would make it appear.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose I'll have to take your word for that, since I've never met anybody belonging to it apart from you and Merrick. And Mrs. Post, sorta, I guess. Which, you know, I'd be able to do if they bothered to  _help_  once in a while. Y'know, like with the annual apocalypse around here?”

“Yes, well. Do bear in mind that the Council has to oversee the entire world, Buffy. Our manpower and resources are not unlimited, and Sunnydale is not even the only Hellmouth in the continental United States, let alone on the planet. It's the most active one, granted, but your continued presence here makes it a lower priority for resources.” He shrugged again. “If your friends hadn't been helping you right from the start, I suspect you might have gotten more support in some form or another. But I imagine the Council decided early on you could manage without it, since you let Angel and other civilians work for you. Err, with you.”

“How will I know exactly when Buffy will be subjected to this test? I get there too early, and the Council will know something's up.” Angel interjected, changing the subject before Buffy and Giles could continue down this tack. This really wasn't the time for it, in his opinion.

Giles looked around at Angel. “Well, I suppose I could always call you; but then, it doesn't exactly appear as if you have phone service here.”

“The downside of living in an abandoned mansion, I suppose.” the vampire replied. “None of the amenities, like electricity or running water. On the other hand, I don't have to pay rent.”

“Plus all the demons and vampires you can slay?” Buffy offered.

“No, actually, I don't have to worry much about them coming after me here. Because, well...Angelus has a certain reputation. Which tends to scare off other vampires and demons.” He paused. “Not all of them, granted, but almost.”

“I can imagine how Angelus' resume could intimidate the lesser, ambitious types.” Giles said after an awkward minute. “Speaking from personal experience, I know that that reputation is well-deserved.”

“Giles!” Buffy yelped in protest.

“Buffy, don't. Because I can remember gleefully torturing the man for hours.” Angel said tiredly. “One of the downsides of you having Willow curse me with my soul again. In fact, it's lucky Xander yanked Giles out of the mansion that day when he did, otherwise I was going to-”

“Don't talk to me about what Xander has or hasn't done, Angel.” Buffy cut him off forcefully. “Because I dunno what's really going on with him nowadays, but as far as I'm concerned, he's...what's the word they used in those stupid spy movies we used to watch together? Oh yeah, compromised. Those secrets he's still refusing to talk to me about-”

“Good Lord, Buffy, not this again.” Giles interrupted wearily. “You know that the boy can't talk about his information source to you, or any of us. Not won't; can't. You think I haven't tried anything and everything I can think of to get around that geas he's been placed under? Not even that blasted truth spell which Willow researched for me worked! Whoever it is who's feeding us information through Xander, he or she has taken extreme measures not to be identified...”

“He's right.” Angel nodded, much to the surprise of both the Watcher and the Slayer. “I've seen it for myself.”

“Huh? What?” Buffy said in surprise. “When?”

“A few nights ago.” Angel started to pace and added, “I was curious, I suppose. And somewhat concerned; around here, you do have to assume that the unknown is dangerous until proven otherwise. So every once in a while, if I was in the neighborhood, I maintained watch at the Harris residence. Climbed up a tree to see if anyone or anything showed up to give Xander the goods.”

“You've been  _spying_  on him?” Buffy yelped in shock. 

“Buffy, not now!” Giles admonished her. Then he turned back to Angel. “What have you learned?”

The vampire shrugged. “Nothing useful. That night, I was looking through Xander's bedroom window – and I noticed he was staring at an empty spot in the room, and his lips were moving as if he was talking to someone. I should have been able to hear everything at that distance, but I couldn't. Not one word. So then I got closer and tried to do the whole lip-reading thing, but straightaway I was struck blind; I couldn't see anything, literally, until I understood that my attempt at eavesdropping wasn't welcome. So I left, and I haven't been back to that house since; didn't want to press my luck any further.”

“Damn it Giles, we've got to  _do_  something about this!!” Buffy exploded. “We can't just let Xander-”

“No.” Giles said harshly. “Buffy, this is no time to focus on, on...trivialities! Our priority is and must be ensuring that you survive the upcoming Cruciamentum. And that's my final word on the matter.”

A seasoned judge of human behavior, a careful reader of expressions in peoples' voices and faces, Angel could already tell that Buffy wasn't going to accept Giles' order in any way, shape or form.

**January 17th, 1999  
Sunnydale Mall**

“Okay, I'm just going to head into the comic store-” Xander drew up short, as Cordelia refused to let go of his hand. “Look, honey, I love you too, but-”

“Oh no, dweeb, you're not getting out of this  _that_  easy. You lost the bet fair and square.” Cordelia maintained her iron grip on her boyfriend. “That means you're coming with me. Three more outfits.”

“But, Cordy!” Xander protested as she half-dragged him towards yet  _another_  clothing store. Xander was refusing to look at the name, by this point they had all started to blur to his eyes. “You've already bought me like ten outfits by now. That's enough, already.”

“No way, not until you have enough clothes to fill your closet that  _I_  consider acceptable. And once that's done, I'm gonna take all those Hawaiian shirts and flannel and polyester and whatever other crap you've got in there, and  _burn_  it all.”

“Cordy!” He protested again. “You are  _not_  burning my clothes!”

“I will if you keep protesting about this. Because damn it, doofus, high school is almost over; there's only another four months to go, and no boyfriend of mine is gonna graduate looking like a complete dork! Besides, you made the bet, and you lost fair and square. End of story.” 

_Hey, only reason I lost is because you cheated, sweetheart. No fair distracting a guy with a blow job, when he's trying to concentrate!_  Xander thought grumpily. Still, he couldn't really complain about that too much; one, because Cordelia really was that talented with her tongue, and two, he knew that shopping made her happy. And since they had been sleeping together for nearly two months now, what made her happy made him happy too. Well, sorta.

As if Cordelia could sense his thoughts, she shot him a look. “Xander, are you going to come along quietly, or am I going to have to find some matches?” After a few moments, the cheerleader couldn't help but crack a smile, as Xander seemed to be actually seriously pondering his options. “Really? You need time to think about which one you would rather pick?”

“Well, yeah. Since they both suck. My man card's been eroded enough, as it is. More shopping only screws it up more.” He smiled a little. “Alright, lead on. And just for the record – this is going to turn into me being your pack mule later on, once you start shopping for yourself, right?”

“You know me so well, ya big goof. It's like we've been dating for over a year!” The young woman then unleashed a megawatt toothpaste commercial smile as she let go of her boyfriend's hand, though she checked to make sure he was following her as she headed into the store. Quietly, so only Xander could hear, she added, “If you're good, we'll stop by Victoria's Secret first off, and I'll model some lingerie for you.” Smirking, she turned back away. “Come on.” She beckoned for him to follow.

Xander, a new spring in his step, did just that. He may have become completely pussy-whipped after weeks of constantly getting laid, granted; but oh, the fringe benefits...

**January 19th, 1999  
Abandoned Sunnydale Arms Boarding House, Sunnydale**

“You're taking this far better than I expected.” Travers noted casually, lifting his teacup and having a sip.

“What are my choices, Quentin?” Giles replied. “Oh, don't get me wrong, my view on the Cruciamentum is as it's ever been: It's an archaic exercise in cruelty. To lock her in this...tomb... weakened, defenseless. And to unleash Kralik on her. If you or any of your friends on the Council still had actual contact with a Slayer, you'd see that; but I'm the one in the thick of it.”

“Which is why you're not qualified to make this decision.” Travers replied cooly. “We've discussed this repeatedly. You're too close.”

“That's not true, but then again, the real truth is that this discussion can serve no useful purpose. Nothing I say will convince you, and nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

“But you will do what is required of you.”

“Of course.” Giles set his half-drunk tea down on the table between them and got up. “If Buffy dies because of you insisting on this pointless travesty of a tradition, though, I promise you – you will not become the head of the Council. I may not have been able to stop this confounded test from happening, but I've enough friends, and you've enough enemies, for me to see to that much.”

“There's no need for threats, or political games, Rupert. If the girl is everything you say she is, you have nothing to worry about.”

Reminded of Angel's accusation that Travers and his followers wanted Buffy to fail the test, Giles didn't believe that for a second. So he just left without a word. There was nothing left to say, anyway.

**January 20th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

After Kralik and Blair, the insane vampire's newest childe, had kidnapped Buffy's mother outside of the Summers house, it was pretty clear that now was the time to start the test. And so Buffy had geared up and was off, on her way. Unfortunately, the plan was completely shot. Which was why Giles was in his office calling Travers. It had been agreed that Angel would follow Buffy fairly closely, so he'd be able to know when she entered the bricked-up boarding house. Give it five or ten minutes, and in he would go. But there were bigger issues at hand as well.

The entire Cruciamentum was tainted, for all that that wouldn't stop Travers. Still, with Blair and Hobson dead...

Giles saw Travers enter his office and dropped the phone back onto the receiver. “I've been trying to reach you.”

“I was on watch at the boarding house.” Travers walked out of the office and into the library.

“Then you know what's happened.” Giles contained the smirk that wanted to appear on his face.

“Yes.” Travers was unfazed. Unfazed by the death of two of his men, two Watchers of noted loyalty and ability. Unfazed that the Cruciamentum had gone awry and put Buffy as well as her mother into deadly peril.

Giles had bothered to contain his smirk. He didn't even bother to contain his anger. He moved towards Travers, barely half a foot from him. “Kralik's killed Hobson and made Blair one of his own. Your perfectly controlled test seems to have spun rather impressively out of control, don't you think?”

Travers walked past Giles towards the teapot on the hot plate next to his desk. “It changes nothing.” He lifted the lid of the pot, then put it back down. “Besides, what do you propose to do, go in there and help her? Violate the rules of the Cruciamentum? You've done your job well so far...” 

Suddenly, Giles let the smirk appear on his face. He crossed his arms in front of him. Travers narrowed his eyes. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because no matter what happens here in Sunnydale tonight, you've lost. I've already made the phone calls to England. Congratulations, Quentin, you've just presided over the last Cruciamentum. Ever. The Council votes on whether to abolish the test in a little under eight hours, given the almighty cock-up that's transpired here. And the earliest plane back to England doesn't even leave for ten hours. Thus, I can't imagine how you could arrange to get there before the vote goes through, no matter what you do.”

“You can't do this. You don't have the pull.” Travers' calm, superior mask was starting to crack as he glared at Giles. 

“No, I don't. But my father does. Besides, you've failed rather miserably, wouldn't you say? You're responsible for the deaths of two of our men, never mind acting like their murders are completely irrelevant. You were the one who selected Kralik. You selected the method of restraining him. You selected the location of the Cruciamentum. Perhaps you don't realize just how badly you've miscalculated and mishandled your responsibilities, after lobbying so hard for this test in the first place? In case that's so – it's my duty to inform you of these facts, Quentin. And by your actions, you're done for.”

“The ways of the Council are there for a reason. They cannot be undone for such petty-”

“Enough. Watch them be undone, Quentin. You put my Slayer at risk for no reason.” Giles drew close and took off his glasses. “Try my patience any further, old man, and I won't be responsible for the consequences.”

“You have a father's love for the child. That is useless to the cause.”

“And under different circumstances, no doubt I'd be worried after you made such a judgment. But given all the ammunition your political rivals now have against you, you're not going to be able to move against me. Not under these circumstances.”

“This is not over.” Travers replied cooly.

“No, I imagine it isn't.” Giles stepped back. “I suggest you run along back to England. Salvage your position, if you can. I have a Slayer to guide, and a Hellmouth to watch.”

“My work here isn't done yet. Under the rules of the Cruciamentum, I won't be leaving until we have a result.”

**January 21st, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Congratulations. You passed...tricking Kralik into drinking the holy water is proof of the cleverness and initiative required of a Slayer. Despite the...irregularities...involved.”

“You mean, the part where Kralik went after my mother? The part where one of your guys got turned into a vamp by that crazy-ass nutcase? Or the part where Angel helped save my life?” Buffy asked way too calmly.

“I understand that you're upset...” Travers said calmly, and a little disdainfully.

“Oh, you understand  **nothing.** And I think you should get out of town, before I get my strength back.”

Travers was about to make a comment regarding whether Buffy thought the Cruciamentum was unfair, but then decided against it. His mood wasn't the best, given the current uproar back in England within Watcher HQ. “You don't give orders to me, Miss Summers.”

“No. But the test is done. And by the rules of the Council, your business in Sunnydale is finished. As Buffy's Watcher, I have primacy here. Therefore I have the authority to tell you to go.” Giles said in no uncertain terms.

“Don't push, Rupert. You may have won this particular battle, but that is all.” Travers said pointedly.

“Is that so.” Giles said, unmoved. “I was rather under the impression that the Council had voted overwhelmingly to end the Cruciamentum once and for all, thanks to the results of your actions here. And that the head of the Council has given orders for you to see him in his office, as soon as you arrive home. Or does that count for nothing in your mind?”

Travers didn't respond. Keeping his composure well in place, he simply left the library.


	13. Episode 12: Motherhood is a Bitch

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All that belongs to Joss and ME and WB. I am not making any profit from writing this, either, by the way. 

**Author Notes:**  There is some violence and death in this chapter. Be warned, is all I'm sayin'.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 12: Motherhood is a Bitch

**January 22nd, 1999  
Mayor's Office, Sunnydale**

“No, no, no.” The Mayor dropped the open folder on his desk. “No, this won't do at all.”

“Sir?” Alan Finch asked from his position near the door. He liked being near the door, during meetings such as this. It was safer. Easier to get away, if he needed to. Well, it  **** _had_  to be better than being away from the door, right?

“You know, Alan, I'm as welcoming as the next man, but I just don't like it when downright unneighborly people move into town. I have a policy of throwing the Hellmouth open to just about all demons and vampires to play with, and they keep trying to use it for themselves. Now, is that fair?”

“Ahm – well...uhm...I suppose it-” Alan started. He hated it when the Mayor asked him questions like that...he could never tell if Wilkins wanted an answer or not. And it was often dangerous to guess wrong.

“No, of course it isn't.” Wilkins supplied. “Not in the least. It's not fair, not neighborly, and gosh-darn not polite on top of all that. And if there's one thing I can't stand in my town, it's people not being polite. Or even not-people not being polite.” He added. “No need to be discriminatory.”

“What's the issue if I may ask, sir?” Alan asked, on slightly firmer ground.

“Oh, it's the Sisterhood of Jhe. Lovely bunch of cultists most of the time. You always know that a virgin's heart you buy from them is the real deal. But they're coming to use my Hellmouth to destroy the world. And they didn't even ask me for permission first! So as I say, this won't do at all.”

“Of course, sir. But, uh, won't the Slayers deal with them, before they manage to bring about the apocalypse?”

“Well, of course they will.” Wilkins replied. “That's why I keep them and their little friends around, after all. But golly, it's still not polite.” He opened up his newspaper. “Find Trick and tell him I want to him here in my office, as soon as the sun goes down. The same for Spike. I have business I need them to attend to.”

“Very good, sir. I'll get right on it.” Alan ducked out of the room, holding his sigh of relief in until he was well down the hallway.

“Gosh. There's definitely something wrong with that boy. Maybe Alan needs a vacation.” Wilkins said to himself as he turned a page of his paper, whistling cheerily.

**January 22nd, 1999  
Sunnydale High School**

“Look, I just want to check with Giles about that big orange demon we killed. It had friends, and I want to know if it was up to something beyond the usual.” Buffy looked down at her sleeve and wiped another piece of blackish green demon goop off her, wishing she had a free hand to hold her nose.

“If it was, it doesn't matter; we killed it. If its friends decide to try something, then we'll kill them too.” Faith shrugged philosophically. “It's what we do, girl friend.”

“Knowing what we have to deal with -” Buffy stopped talking as the sound of breaking glass came down the hallway.

There was no one else in the school hallways. Giles was still in the library, researching thing or another, but apart from him, there shouldn't be anyone in the building at this time of night. Not even the janitors...it didn't take long to pick it up.

“I call dibs.” Faith said with a laugh, running down the corridor. It didn't take them long to find the source of the noise: the trophy cabinet, the host of wins and honors Sunnydale High and its various sports teams had achieved in the past, what few of them there were. The glass casing had been completely smashed, although it didn't look like any trophies were missing...

Of course, there wasn't time for an inventory. The culprit was standing right in front of them. In his usual suit and wearing a fang-filled smirk, Trick clapped his hands. “Well, I didn't expect to see you two here. Good thing I brought friends.” Vampires dropped down from the ceiling, two in front and two behind. Immediately Faith lunged at one, grabbing the vamp by the arm and flinging him into Trick, but the black vampire sidestepped easily.

“I'd love to stay and chat, Slayers, but then I do have business elsewhere.” He mimed tipping a hat as two more of his minions came running down the hall towards them. “Maybe next time.”

“Oh no you don't!” Faith staked the downed vampire and chased after Trick, knocking over one of his reinforcements and staking the other, unimpeded. Trick looked over his shoulder and saw her behind him. 

“Well then. If it's a fight you really want, I guess I'll just have to oblige...” Latching on to a sprinkler, Trick swung into her, legs flying right into her shoulders, sending her sprawling as Trick landed on both feet. But by the time Faith had jumped back onto her feet, Trick was nowhere in sight.

“FAITH! A little help here!?” Buffy cried out, staking one of the four vampires she still had to deal with. Jumping up, she kicked out with both legs, taking two in the face, sending them sprawling. The blonde Slayer ran for the one still standing. She made with the staking, but it evaded her swing, punching out at her. Buffy caught it on her shoulder.

“Normally I'd be in a punny mood right about now.” Buffy said, grabbing the vampire's arm. “But at the moment,” she bent it in a way no arm was meant to be bent. “I'm tired,” She flung the vampire into the broken case, glass cutting onto its legs, “and I really need a shower.” She drove her stake into its heart.

“I'll be happy to shower you in your blood, Slayer!” The vampire said, lunging at her. “After I've had my fill-” Then he froze up, a stake sprouting out of its chest and dust fell to the ground. Another member of the undead club, which was just starting to get up off the floor, was quickly dispatched as well.

“Any more of them?” Faith asked. She didn't see any.

“There was one more.” Buffy looked, moving quickly, eyes not lingering in one spot too long “Maybe it ran off...” – then the vampire dropped down from the ceiling – these ones really liked that trick. In one hand was a trophy. A really, really big trophy. “Faith! Behind you!” Faith turned and ducked the swing she was expecting – but it never came. The vampire was just standing there, trophy over its head...not moving at all.

“You might want to stake it now. I don't know how much longer I can hold it like this.” Amy said, standing some distance behind the immobile vampire. “Wasn't even sure if this spell-” Faith drove her stake into the vampire's heart, “-would work.”

“Well, looks to me like it does.” Faith said, cleaning vampire dust off herself. She looked at the shattered trophy case. “What the hell were they doing here, anyway?”

“I don't know.” Buffy said, looking suspicious. “I mean, your regular vamps might come here and break things just for the hell of it, but Trick doesn't seem like the type. He had to have some kind of plan. Let's just hope we stopped him before he managed to pull it off.” She looked at Amy. “What were you doing here so late?” Buffy asked, seeing Amy looking closely at the trophies.

“I – I was looking for Mr. Giles, actually. I was hoping he could give me some magic advice. And to see if I could be any help in, well,” She gestured to the piles of dust, “this. I mean, sure, I'm not part of your little gang of friends that hangs out there in the library every day, but I still know what's what, and hey, you helped save my life.” Amy said, pointing to Faith. “I didn't actually say thanks for that, did I?”

“You don't need to. It's kind of what being a Slayer is for, right?” Faith replied flatly. She didn't look comfortable, for some reason.

“Well, still, thanks. I mean it.” Amy said. “But like I said – I want to help. Not actively fighting what hangs out in this town hasn't stopped them coming after me, and hey, I just helped you guys out.” She turned to look at the trophy case. “So, you think you guys could use...” Amy's voice trailed off, color draining from her face. “No...”

“Amy? Something up?” Faith tucked her stake into her belt.

“There- There's a trophy missing....my-my mom's...” Amy stared past the empty spot in the wrecked case. “It's gone...”

“Okay...I suppose that's a thing...but why do you look so freaked over it?” Faith didn't get it.

Amy didn't answer, and eyes closed, she started muttering to herself. Buffy took the space to explain. “About two years ago, Amy's mom used a spell to switch bodies with her so she could relive her old glory days on the cheer team. Then she cursed all the other cheerleaders that were competition – set one on fire, fused another's mouth shut, blinded Cordelia and threw some kind of curse on me that would have killed me a few hours later. When she was forced back into her original body, Mrs. Madison tried to kill Amy and me. Some spell of hers got reflected by a mirror, and then...she just vanished. We always figured she was dead.”

“No.” Amy shook her head. “She was never dead.” She was breathing short, shallow breaths, just one more shock away from hyperventilating.

“What are you talking about? I saw it – you saw it. Her screaming, the like...purple fire stuff? She's dead.” Buffy said, frowning.

“No. I thought so too, at first...but...last year...I felt it.” Amy was speaking in pauses, words catching before they were spoken. “She...she ended up in her own trophy, stuck inside it...I felt it after...after I started practicing magic.” She looked at Faith and Buffy. “Why- Why would someone take it?” Recognition formed on her face, eyes widening as she stepped back in shock. “No. No. No. No. No. No.” Over and over the denial escaped her lips, as Amy realized that the only reason someone might have for taking the statue...would be to release Catherine Madison from her prison.

“Okay. This qualifies as, like what, our monster this week?” Faith asked, turning her head to Buffy.

“I suppose it does.” Buffy said slowly, looking at the hyperventilating Amy, still desperately denying her own conclusions.

**January 22nd, 1999  
Mayor's Office, Sunnydale**

Trick set the largish cheerleading trophy down on the floor in front of Wilkins' desk. “Here it is, like you said you wanted. Mind if I ask what this is about, anyway?”

“You'll see.” Wilkins got up from his chair and opened his...occult implements cupboard, withdrawing pouches and implements. “By the way, Spike?”

Trick shrugged. “Guy was a no-show at the school. Yet somehow, that didn't surprise me.”

“Well, that's too bad. And honestly, Mr. Trick - the surprise is often the best part!”

“Never been all that fond of surprises myself.” Trick admitted as Wilkins started to pour some kind of black powder in a circle around the trophy.

“Where's the fun in that?” Wilkins offered with a smile. He waved a hand dismissively. “Then again, you don't like snickerdoodles, so you don't have the first idea of what's what.” He set four grinning skulls at each point of the compass around the object. Then five candles, a pentacle of incense burning. The Mayor started to chant, the Assyrian words rolling off his tongue without the slightest difficulty. For fifteen minutes, he chanted...

Purple light suddenly flew from the statue, flying up in a column to the ceiling, a thin beam, then wider and wider. With an anguished scream the light was gone, and in its place was a woman, brownish-red hair, still wearing the same clothing she had worn that day in that classroom, so long ago.

Catherine Madison looked around the room, eyes settling on Trick. “What do you want, vampire!?” She tried to step away from the trophy, but as her hand moved towards the black powder circle, it met with resistance, the air solid against her hand.

Trick shrugged. “Oh, hey, it's not about what I want.” He pointed to the Mayor, who was standing behind Catherine. “It's about what the boss wants. He's the one calling the shots around here.”

Catherine turned, a snarl on her lips when she recognized the man she was facing. “Mayor Wilkins.” She said with a hiss. “I always wondered why the police and the city government always acted as though there was absolutely nothing wrong in this town.” She placed her palm on the shield of air preventing her movement. “Any chance this can get lowered? You let me out of my prison, so you had to have some reason for it. Let's hear it.”

Wilkins smiled. “Oh, come now. Is everyone around here all, ah, straight to business? What about the joys of talking about the weather?”

“I'm in no mood for chit-chat. I just spent two years in that damn-” Catherine's voice cut off into a choking gag.

“Now, now, language, Catherine.” Wilkins opened his half-closed hand, and the pressure on the witch's airways was lifted. “Let's watch the swearing. But as you wish; I'm here to offer you a deal. You can either work for me, or go straight back into the trophy.”

“Some choice that is. Still, why do you need me? Your magic is clearly more powerful than mine.” Catherine remarked with distaste.

Richard Wilkins smiled. It was a warm and friendly politician's smile, all meaningless to the situation at hand. “Because there are two individuals that are giving me a great deal of trouble, even if they don't know they're doing it. I would like to see them eliminated. And you have your own reasons to want to get rid of at least one of them. She's an old...friend of yours. Buffy Summers.”

Trick raised his eyebrows at that; like Alan Finch and Spike, he knew perfectly well that the Mayor had decreed that the Slayers and their friends were off-limits, at least until the Sisterhood of Jhe had been dealt with. Impending apocalypse, and all that. So why was he telling this bitch to go nuts and kill the assets he'd previously ordered to be left alone?

Ignorant of the the thoughts going through the vampire's head, Catherine Madison held her tongue from an immediate response. After a few minutes she simply said to Wilkins, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

**January 22nd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Giles looked at Faith, Buffy and the still-pale Amy, the former two standing, the latter sitting. He slowly sipped from his tea. “I hate to ask this, but I have to. Amy, are you  ** _sure_**  that your mother was trapped in that trophy?”

“I'm sure. I felt her there. I can't explain it...it just...it just...I could feel her presence...like she was standing right near me.”

“So why didn't you ever say anything?” Buffy looked to her. “I mean,  ** _tell_**  anyone?”

Amy shrugged. “I...guess I...I mean, why should I have? She was stuck there...she wasn't getting out...and...it seemed...I dunno...kinda fitting? She may be my mother, but she stole my body...did all those things to you, and Cordelia, and everyone else, just so she could re-live her glory days on the damn cheerleading squad...and there she was, stuck in the trophy.” She shuddered, despite the relative warmth.

“And there's no reason for Trick to take the trophy for itself. It's not valuable, and it doesn't have any other uses.” Giles considered.

“He has to have some kind of...plan, to free her.” Amy completed. Staggered half-complete breaths escaped her.

“Yes. We, uh, I'm afraid we have to work under the assumption that Catherine Madison is free of her prison. If not now, then soon.” Giles said.

“And it's pretty darn obvious what's the first thing she'd want to do – kill me and Amy.” Buffy said softly. “And you're probably be on her list, too, Giles, since you reversed all her spells.”

“A definite point. So we certainly shouldn't leave Amy alone – perhaps she could stay at your apartment, Faith?”

Faith shrugged. “I'm down with that.” She looked at a confused Amy. “Never imagined I'd meet someone I wouldn't gladly swap moms with, but hell, now that I've met you...”

“Then it's settled?” Giles asked, ignoring that.

“No.” Amy replied at once. “I can't leave my dad alone. The divorce was bitter enough that if my mom comes looking for me at his place...and she doesn't find me there...he'd be...” Amy's voice trailed off and she shook her head. “No. Not an option.” She repeated.

“Then I'll come over to your place.” Faith shrugged. “You can tell your old man that I'm a friend, staying over at your house for the night.” Amy nodded slowly in acceptance.

“Yes, err, that appears to be a viable stratagem.” Giles said after a moment. “The question remains, though, how and when Mrs. Madison will make her move – and who will she target first?”

“If she goes after me, or if she goes after Amy, we're going to get through this. Faith can handle this as much as I can, and really Amy, you're no pushover in the magic biz either, it's starting to look like. We can get through this. After all, the other option isn't something that leads anywhere good.” Buffy said, trying to bolster everyone's spirits.

**January 22nd, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

“Why do you stop by for these little visits, anyway? Don't you have better things to do with your time?” Xander turned the Iron Coin over in his hand as he spoke.

The Jester appeared to shrug, turning his azure gaze to meet Xander's brown-eyed one. “Time. That's such a strange concept you lower dimensionals believe in, you know. It's not until you reach what your mathematicians call the eleventh dimension that the locals stop believing in that nonsense. Saving time, spending time, keeping time, wasting time, making time.” He scoffed. “There  ** _is_**  no time. No such thing. It's just an illusion.” As he spoke, the Jester continually shuffled and reshuffled a deck of cards in his hands.

“I've heard people say that. But I don't believe it.” Xander countered.

“You should believe them. They're wise people, for humans.”

Xander shook his head. “Maybe, but I still don't buy it. Maybe it's just because I'm too dumb, sure  - but from where I'm sitting, there is such a thing called cause and effect.” These almost nightly sessions with the Jester had forced him to change his reading habits. “If I drop the coin,” He let the coin fall from his hand, and it clattered on the floor moments later. “It falls to the floor. It doesn't fall to the floor  ** _before_**  I drop it. I walk out this room, I have to get up and go to the door first. One thing happens before another. Not just cause and effect, but before and after. That's time, even if it's just something we make up to explain linear progression of events.”

“I suppose that's how you and yours would see it, yes.”

“Ah-ah, don't give me that. I mean, hey, this conversation is happening after you gave me the Iron Coin. Gandalf the Black showed up  _after_  he arranged my dad's death. It wouldn't have made sense for him to have come before that, given what our conversation was about.”

“Well, of course. It's the only way you can understand it.”

“So you see where I'm going with this? To communicate with me, you have to play by the rules of linear progression. So even if it doesn't exist on your level, it exists down here, amongst us mere mortals.”

“Hmm. If that's true, then how does the Coin let you see the future?” The Jester had a perverse-looking smirk on his face as he asked Xander that.

“I'm not seeing the future – or else I wouldn't be able to avert it or alter it. I'm seeing, as you yourself once said, what the forces of Fate have written in that Book. I figure the flashes and images and everything else are simply my brain trying to process what I'm 'reading'.”

“Including the pain you felt, when you experienced what your lover would have undergone a few months ago - had you not altered that sequence of events?”

Xander paused, frowning. He remembered that incident; as well as how the Librarian had warned him that he shouldn't have changed all that, that he had no idea what the consequences would be preventing Cordy from getting impaled by that rebar. Or even how he'd done it, really. “Yeah, okay, you got me there. I'm still trying to figure that one out.”

“And what conclusions have you come to?” The Jester still had that annoying smirk on his face, as if all this was prime time entertainment for him.

“Uh, that coin of yours can  ** _really_**  drive its warning home, if it's important enough?”

“Well, that's not even close, really, but from your point of view - it's a workable enough lie.”

“I get the feeling that, when dealing with you, the lies are more true than the truth.” Xander picked up the coin. “Now, if there's nothing else, you may as well get out of here. I'd like to get some sleep.”

The Jester just laughed. As he faded from view, the agent of Chaos ruffled the deck in his hands, picking it up and letting the cards spring from on hand to the other with a flourish.

They were all the Ace of Spades, a fitting indication of what his whim had managed to generate so far with regards to the plans of some so-called higher beings.

**January 23rd, 1999  
1420 Truman Drive, Sunnydale**

Faith had always been a light sleeper. But it didn't matter whether you were a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper, when someone exploded the front door of the house. Within seconds, Faith was on her feet, stake in one hand, one of her knives in the other. The moon and starlight from the now-empty doorway and the windows was enough illumination to show who was responsible. Not that Faith had had any doubts over who would have burst into Amy's house this way, and at this time of night.

“Catherine Madison.” Faith kicked the coffee table at her, but it broke to splinters before it could reach the witch.

“You've heard of me. I'm touched. You must be one of my worthless daughter's worthless friends.” Catherine cut the air with her hand, a fan of energy flying at the Slayer. Faith ducked and rolled to the side, the couch almost splitting in half from the energy blast, a deep gouge forming in the wall behind it.

“Missed.” Faith mocked in a sing-song voice. She looked for a viable weapon, something to throw her opponent off-balance...

“Just one hit. That's all I need. And I'm perfectly willing to destroy my bastard of an ex-husband's house along the way.” Faith ducked behind a stuffed chair as flames flew over her head and into the wall, the fireball crashing apart, crackling along the edge of the room. “You're quick.”

“Comes with the job.” Faith rolled, grabbed a surviving leg of the coffee table and flinging it at Catherine like a boomerang.

“What job? Getting in my way?” Catherine casually whacked the table leg aside with her forearm. “Just like that other girl – Buffy.”

Faith rose to her feet, flinging her stake at Amy's mother. “I'm not Buffy, you bitch!” Like the table before it, the stake was splinters before it reached its target.

“Ooh. I see I've touched a sore spot, Slayer.” Catherine blasted the chair forward. With an 'oof', Faith was pinned against its back as it flew nearly into the wall, fire inches from Faith's head, her hair singing already, dizziness overtaking her vision for a second. Just a second. “I'll have to take care of you first, I suppose.” Catherine summoned another fireball to her hand, pulling her hand back for a throw-

Water flew from somewhere to her left, drenching her hand, her arm, and extinguishing the fireball.

“Get out of this house, mom!” Amy stood firm at the bottom of the stairs, one hand holding tight onto the railing, her knees weak under the energy she was using, as she turned her hand to the fire on the wall, dousing Faith as she put out those flames sputtering near the Slayer. “You're not welcome here.”

Catherine turned her gaze away from the half-pinned Slayer towards her errant daughter. “Once  ** _again_** , you raise your hand against your mother! The last two years have done nothing for your manners!” Catherine reached out a hand to Amy, holding her in place, paralyzed below the neck.

“But they did do something for my ability to use magic!” Amy shot back. Closing her eyes, she fought against the spell, her magic dueling with her mother's. _It's not enough...no, damn it! No!_  Amy felt her defenses crumbling...the walls of her castle, as it were, had been breached...

“Not good enough, girl. I won't be taking half-measures with you this time! I'll do what I should have done a  _long_  time ago, Amy!” Catherine reached out with her other hand, clenching an invisible hand around Amy's throat. “I'm going to enjoy this...”

Faith had watched the exchange, but from the moment Catherine had turned away from her, she was on the move. All she had on hand now was her knife, but that was all she needed. Faith swung out with her hand, the blade crossing the foot from where she hid, diagonally across, into Catherine Madison. 

The blade didn't sink into Catherine's shoulder – no such luck, the witch sensed her coming at the last moment – but the shock of the hit, the depth of the cut, did affect the middle-aged woman. Catherine staggered away, magical backlash flowing through her as the spell on Amy broke. Faith was moving again as the witch tried to regain her footing. With both hands Faith grabbed her opponent's uninjured arm, wrenching it up and around, snapping the bones as she flipped Catherine Madison onto her back, arm on her throat.

“No!” Catherine gurgled.

“Give me one good reason why not!” Faith demanded, still pressing her arm down and attempting to go for the kill.

“Grlghk.” Catherine placed her usable hand on Faith's chest, and there was a brief discharge of magical energy. The dark-haired Slayer flew backwards, crashing into Amy, both of them collapsing in a pile on the floor. Stumbling to her feet, Catherine winced at the pain in her arms. And the backlash...it had affected her more than she'd expected. With far more grace than a retreat should allow, Catherine departed, vanishing into the night. The whole exchange had taken no more than two minutes - which was how long it took for Amy's father to find his shotgun and reach the living room with it in hand.

The two girls had quite a job on their hands preventing him from panicking and calling the police, once Mr. Madison heard what had happened...

**January 23rd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“It was as much luck as it was anything else, for the both of you.” Giles admonished Amy and Faith, later in the morning. The whole Scooby Gang was gathered in the library, as was the norm by now. “While it was good that your mother was overconfident this time, she won't be again, and it is unwise to count on the enemy being overconfident twice.”

“Hey!” Faith protested. “It wasn't just luck that had me getting around behind her to get her with the knife, or break her arm. And it wasn't luck that Amy was able to save me from being toasted Slayer. She was that good with the mojo.”

“I, uh, actually wasn't sure it was going to work, Faith. I kinda made that water spell up on the fly.” Amy replied softly from her chair, holding her arms around her middle. “And I was  _useless_  resisting her attempt to hold me in place!”

“I don't think you can blame yourself for that.” Willow interjected. “Like it or not, your mom has been doing magic for a lot longer. She's just better at it. But you managed to keep her busy long enough for Faith to get to her, right?”

“Aren't you listening? Willow, I was  _useless_  against her!” Amy nearly screamed. “I was – you have no idea...I was so...helpless.” Her voice fell to barely a whisper. “I can't be that helpless again – I won't. You have no idea...I was so...I was  _so afraid_...I can't let anyone do that to me. I have – no. Never again.” She shook her head. “Never. Again.” A long, slow, shuddering breath escaped her. “Sorry.” She murmured, then bit her lip. “Sorry.” She repeated. “I didn't think...I guess...I hoped she wouldn't be able to do this to me. The nightmares...I hadn't had any for over a year...but...I had them....then I  ** _lived_**  one...” 

Amy looked at Faith, her hand reaching out for the Slayer's. “I didn't – last night, I didn't get to say – thank you. For...for agreeing to help, stay at my house...for what you did – if...if you hadn't – even if my mom hadn't tried to kill me...” Her voice trailed off.

Faith, as Amy was speaking, started to shake Amy's hand off of her – contact like that wasn't really her thing – but she let Amy finish. There was just... _God damn, she's fucked up inside._  It was...no, not pity...sympathy? When the amateur witch finished talking, she let her hand fall away from the Slayer's.

“If you hadn't felt like that, y'know, scared?” Oz said from his position near the edge of the group, at Willow's side. “I'd have wondered. But fear is supposed to be a tool, right, when channeled properly. If you hadn't been so afraid – would you have been able to fight as well you did? I dunno. But it's a thing to think about.” He looked back at everyone, at their surprised expressions. “What? I can string multiple sentences together.” He smiled, just for a moment.

“But what do we do about her? I mean, if Mrs. Madison's going to come back better prepared,” Buffy sighed. “We can't all stay at the same place and simply wait for her, sure. But if we don't deal with her soon...I don't want to think about what she's capable of. There's been enough risk to my mom's life recently as it is.”

“Well, what about trying to find her with magic?” Xander suggested. He didn't, couldn't suggest using the Iron Coin. Besides, it hadn't shown her anything about Amy's mom – not a thing. “I mean, there's got to be a spell for that, right?”

“Several, but if she's even remotely prepared, the woman will have masked herself against such magics.” Giles replied. “Still, it might not be impossible to find her.” He looked to Willow and Amy. “I'm going to need help from the both of you to make any magical attempt to find her stick. I'm all right on the theory, but my actual magical power is limited. You two, on the other hand, have more to work with. Between the three of us, we might –  _might_  – be able to find her, or at least some trace of her.” He walked over to the shelf. “Still, that begs the question - what do we do when, uh, when we actually find her? We need some kind of plan...”

“Well, you just said it yourself, didn't you?” Cordelia commented. Giles just looked at her, confused. “This is a trend for you guys, isn't it?”

“Cordy, what are you talking about?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes at Buffy. “Missing things when they're right in front of you.” She pointed to Giles. “You said you knew a lot about magic, but don't have much power. Willow and Amy have more power, but they haven't learned as much about magic as you – yet. And you have two Slayers here as well. Between the five you, you've got enough power to be able to take Amy's mom down, right?” 

The young woman looked at them and their facial expressions. “Jeez, do none of you ever think?”

**January 23rd, 1999  
Rack's Den, Sunnydale**

Later that lunchtime, Amy stopped herself from wrinkling her nose as she stepped over the threshold into Rack's place. The trashed outer room reeked of failure, sour magical discharge and just...ordinary stench. Some of the junkies lying around, or sitting around, hadn't taken baths or showers or anything in months, it seemed.  _Idiots._ Magic wasn't something to treat as a means to get high with.

The rush...Amy knew the rush...she couldn't get away from it. But she controlled her magic, not the other way around. Still, her previous search for that rush, that had led her here...and now, that might just save her life.

Amy had been careful in her visits with Rack so far, trying to increase her knowledge, her power. But always only letting Rack have a little, give her just a little...not that he would ever really give her more normally, despite his 'promises'...but now...she didn't have time to be careful.

“Amy.” Rack said, standing in the doorway of his back room, looking at her. “I didn't expect to see you back here so soon.” The dark-haired man was dressed, as he always was, in black; magic sparking from finger to finger.

“I need your help, Rack.” Amy said, hands clenched, hating herself more with every word.  _So useless you have to...how can you be so weak? You're pathetic._

“You  _need_  my help, hm? And here I thought you could barely stand me.”

“Rack, you can gloat later.  _Please._ I need – power, a spell,  _something_. Do you want me to get on my knees and beg you to help me? I'll do it.” Amy was shaking – she'd had herself mostly under control, since her outburst in the library...but....not now...not anymore. Not now that she was actually thinking about what would happen the next time she and her mother met in battle.

“Something's got you real fucking scared, Amy.” Rack reached out his hand, and she felt him there, crawling around in her mind, her thoughts.

“Get out of my head!” She yelled, trying to throw up mental barriers against him.

“If you want me out of your head, then you can turn your pretty self around right now and leave. But if you want my help – I wanna see what's got you running scared like this.” 

Amy recoiled, Rack felt so... _slimy_  in her mind. But she didn't have much choice in the matter. So she dropped her barriers and let him in.

The images reached Rack's mind across the thread of his magic. Catherine switching bodies with Amy, vanishing after Buffy uses the mirror trick...the missing trophy...the fear...Rack tasted the fear...smiling...then last night, the attack, the paralysis, the helplessness.  _Delicious._  

Rack pulled out of her head. “Sorry. I can't help you.” He said with a dark smile.

“What? No! I'll let you do whatever you want – I'll do  _anything_! Please! I have to – I can't let her – she's going to kill me!” Amy really did drop onto her knees. “Anything, do you hear me? Name your price. Otherwise, I'm dead!” Her fear was the only thing on her mind, Rack's probing pushed everything else out of her thoughts.

“I know.” Rack started to turn away. “And she'll pull it off, too. I knew your mother when she was your age, kid. She had real power – and Catherine wasn't afraid to...lose control. I think I'd like to catch up with her, when this is all over. So, there's no amount of money or any kind of reward you can offer, to make it worth my while becoming her enemy. Too bad; you'll be dead before the end of the week.” Laughing, Rack turned away fully, closing the door to his back room behind him.

“No!” Amy scrambled to her feet, running at the door, pounding on it with her fists. “No! Rack! No! You open this door! Now!” She reached for her power, desperate, trying to break down the door -

But all it accomplished was her landing on her ass as she flew out of Rack's den, passing through the threshold barrier. Amy didn't wait. She ran. She ran. Ran from the magical crack den, from her fear, from her mother. Everything. Nowhere. Nowhere was safe.  _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._

This alley...no. She looked around. How had she gotten here? No. Where was this. Where the hell was she?

“Rack decided not to help you, didn't he?” The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. Every shadow, every corner. It was male, and a touch accented, maybe? “Well, I'm not surprised. Such an ungenerous man. Nasty, unclean habits too.” The male voice made a disgusted sound. “Germs all over the place, most unsanitary. But there you go: you come to him, begging, and he won't help. Now who would turn down a pretty face like yours?”

“Who are you!?” Amy demanded, her voice quavering too much. “Show yourself!”

“All in good time, my dear.” The voice replied. “As for who I am...well, consider me...someone who knew your mother in the old days. And unlike Rack...I'm not thrilled by the idea of her being back, shall we say.” A piece paper...no, parchment? floated to the ground in front of her – but it had seemingly come from nowhere.

“What's this?” Amy asked,

“A spell – a special one. I won't guarantee it will save your life. You have to know how to use it, when to use it. But it's yours, for all the good it will do you.”

“Why are you doing this? Why help me?” Amy turned around in a circle, trying to find the person speaking to her, or locate him by the sound of his voice.

“Like I said, I'm not all that fond of your mother. Besides, now you owe me a favor. And fairly soon, I imagine that I'll be in a position to collect.”

“What sort of favor? I don't like strings. And how do I know I can trust you?” Amy made no move to take the parchment.

The voice laughed, eerie in its cheerfulness. “Amy Madison, do you  ** _really_**  think that you're in any position to negotiate? Goodbye now. I'll be in touch.” Silence fell on her like a deafening roar, the speaker gone, wherever he'd been.

The mystery man had a point, Amy suddenly realized. Trust...trust didn't matter. There was only one thing that mattered. Her mother. Slowly she half-knelt, reaching down to pick up the parchment, reading the Latin words quietly in her mind. She had no idea what the spell was...what it was supposed to do. But if there was even a chance...even half a chance that it would save her life...no, even less than half...she had to grab it, with both hands...

**January 23rd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Amy was back in the library at sunset, the moment evening upon them completely, as was agreed.

“Perfect timing, Amy.” Everyone was there. Buffy and Faith, waiting for an idea where Catherine was concerned, in order to deal with the woman. Willow and Giles, for the locating spells. Even Cordelia, Oz and Xander for moral support if nothing else. They were here. All of them. To help. Amy nodded to Giles as he spoke, hope suddenly filling her mind. 

The Watcher spread a map of Sunnydale over the central table. “We're going to try the Arcelian Finding Ritual first. Cordelia, light the candles. Xander, drop a pinch of rosemary into those two candles once they're lit. Oz, the Edelweiss petals onto that candle.” The three obeyed, though Cordelia was very careful of her nails as she struck the match.

“Willow, stand on that side of the table.” he continued. “Place your hands on the sides of the map. No, wider. Yes. Like that. Amy, same thing, other side of the table.” Giles held up a clear, straight crystal, thee inches long maybe, tied to a piece of string, over the map, his other hand along the spine of an open book he held out. “Focus your magics into the map, into finding Catherine Madison.”

The ancient Greek flowed smoothly from his lips as he began to chant, suddenly switching to Latin, and then Hebrew; sometimes mid-word. It took a minute, but then the crystal began to glow...and glow...and glow...and do nothing else. It remained still. Perfectly, unnaturally still. 

Giles closed the book with a snap. “She's blocked her magical signature against that kind of tracking spell. Blast. But there are other ways. A Clotharian Index Cypher perhaps-” Rupert murmured, picking up another book.

It flew out of his hands the moment it was in them, the library doors swinging shut. Catherine Madison standing there, clothed in a slinky black dress, no sign of her cut shoulder, or her broken arm visible anymore. “Looking for me, I take it?” She smirked. “Found me.” 

As if it were just water, Catherine's hand sank into the book, through the cover...her eyes briefly turned red, before turning solid black, purple energy flowing up her arm, which was now submerged to the elbow inside the book. Catherine dropped it to the floor, and it fell open, every page blank.

Catherine popped her neck. “It's been  _ages_  since I've done that. I'd almost forgotten how good it feels. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, properly punishing my ungrateful, worthless daughter.” Catherine reached out a hand, fire forming in it. “Oh, but wait. I forgot about all your little friends, didn't I Amy? How rude of me.” Even as she spoke, her other hand was moving. The stake that flew from Buffy's hand was cast aside effortlessly. Then she waved it on the word 'rude'. Giles, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia all flew into the air, landing around the room with thuds, cries of pain, even a sickening crack from one of them.

“Leave them out of this!” Amy reached out with her magic, water- and watched as it hit the fireball...and did nothing, vanishing as if the fireball was a rock in its stream.

Catherine laughed. “You didn't think that was going to work twice, did you?” She formed a second fireball in her hands. “So many targets, so few hands...who should I hit first?” Faith started to run at the witch, but tripped as Catherine's magic moved a chair into her way. Buffy somersaulted over the librarian desk, her fist flying into the extinguisher's glass case, ignoring her bleeding hand, the red weapon in hand.

“Did you plan for this?” The nozzle fired into Catherine, taking away her fire, covering her in white foam. Buffy tossed the fire-fighting object after its contents, but that Catherine avoided, rupturing the metal case as it flew away from her.

“You can't fight us all at once!” Willow said with confidence she didn't feel, sending two dozen pencils flying at her. She looked to Amy just a little – she had heard the details of the first encounter...

Catherine splintered the incoming pencils easily – but she was still pelted by the splinters, a storm of slivers, Amy directing them all at her mother. Sputtering as some got into her mouth, Catherine sent Willow flying. Faith ran for the red-haired witch, not catching her, but inadvertently cushioning her fall with her own body.

Buffy jumped back over the desk, kicking out at Catherine, catching her leg – but even as she fell, more was in motion. Buffy barely avoided a bolt of energy, the desk cut into, the gouge spreading like a spider's web. But then she fell – and the desk atop her, completely unsecured from the floor. Wind gone, Buffy struggled with the weight pressing down n her.

“No! Buffy!” Willow, on her feet again, tried to help Buffy, but it wasn't working. Amy saw what Willow was doing, and made to help – Faith tossed one, then another knife at Amy's mother, but to no avail. They skittered off into the wall, useless.

“Well, now. How to deal with such an unmannered child like you?” Catherine approached Faith.

“I said, leave them alone!” Amy stepped in front of her mother, pale, shaking. “This isn't about them...”

“They got in my way. Of course it's about them, to an extent. Especially since you  _care_!” Catherine froze Amy again, the table flying into Willow – but the witch ducked underneath it, trapped against the wall as it flipped to the side. Catherine then looked at the dark-haired Slayer. “Now, let's start with the one you initially put between us! The one that stopped me before, at your father's house.” Faith barely ducked under the lightning bolt that seemed to just jump from Catherine's body towards her.

“Fine by me, bitch.” Faith ran at Catherine, putting everything she had into it, leaping at her. Catherine was unfazed – fire crashed into Faith, washing over her midsection. Crying out despite herself, Faith landed, rolling, trying to put out the flames before they could spread. Slayer healing or otherwise, there would definitely be scarring...

“So pathetic. And you wanted to protect her? Well...not so surprising, I suppose. One  _worthless, useless, helpless_  person feels kinship with another – and that's all you've ever done, Amy. Surround yourself with people just like you. Worthless people. Useless people. Helpless-”

“NO!” Amy cried out. “Not helpless. Never helpless. Never again! I am not your plaything. And I am  ** _not_**  afraid of you!” Amy began to chant, at first a murmur, but her voice rising as she spoke.

“Strong words coming from someone so-” Catherine stopped, as she heard the chant. She didn't recognize the spell being incanted, and that suddenly worried her. “Amy, what do you think you're doing? Do you really think you can use a spell on me? That your pathetic magic can oppose mine?”

“- _futurus sit_!” Amy yelled the last two words. She knew Latin, yes, just like Xander did by this point; but to both of them – and Willow and Giles, for that matter - the English translation was nonsense, random words strung together. Still, whatever it did – whatever that man had wanted – Amy decided that she wasn't helpless. Never helpless. And Catherine wasn't going to hurt Faith more. Not going to hurt any of them – the people who had tried to help her. Never going to hurt anyone again! Anyone!

The last two words of the spell punched into Catherine – the magic barreling into her like a bullet, sending her reeling backwards – but that was just the beginning. The magic flowed up her body, like electricity up copper wire, flowing from Amy, the surroundings, her own crackling eyes, fingers, hands, into her from all parts of her just one place – her chest.

The ensuing blast was almost deafening, the magic overloading and exploding outwards – Catherine's chest exploding outwards too, gore and blood splattering everywhere, almost like a machine with no surge protector in an electrical storm. Catherine's dead body then collapsed, lifeless, to the floor of the library.

Amy watched in disbelief as the spell hit home – the explosion...the empty cavity...the lifeless...

It suddenly dawned on the Madison girl that she had just killed her own mother.

And it suddenly dawned on Xander that the Iron Coin had shown him nothing of any of this when he'd used it earlier and said Amy's name. Which meant it wasn't Fate's idea that all this had happened...

Freed from her magical paralysis, Amy fell to her knees, hands held out at her sides. “Mom...Mom? Mommy?” 


	14. Episode 13: Consequential Sisterhood

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I do own the Iron Coin, the original characters, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Thanks again to my beta-reader, Starway Man.

**Author's Note:**  For those interested, I've started a tumblr at: alkenifanfiction . Tumblr . Com (take away the extraneous spaces, obviously), for the purposes of talking on a somewhat meta-level about my fanfics – my reasons for doing X instead of Y, how I feel about this or that character or thing from the fandom, and so on. One of the things it will include is some discussion of concepts, themes or information about the fics themselves that are too long for an author's note, and that I really can't fit into the story itself, due to a lack of space or a lack of an appropriate moment story-wise to explore it. Should be pretty interesting, if you like to get as meta about fics and the fandom as I sometimes do.

Don't need to have a tumblr to look at it, so feel free to check it out periodically, as I'll make posts about all my fics there, and potentially thoughts about past fics of mine, or even upcoming projects in the world of fanfiction. If you're interested, check it out. If you're not, well, on with the fic!

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 13: Consequential Sisterhood

**January 23rd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

The entire room – which had, just moments before, been fairly screaming with sound – fell silent as Amy collapsed to her knees, almost at the same time Catherine Madison's lifeless form collapsed face-down onto the floor.

Gasping in pain, Xander struggled to sit up with one hand. He tried to move his other hand, but quickly stopped as a scream of pain was ripped from his lips. Biting down, he suppressed the screams, but the young man's senses were overwhelmed with pain, nothing else really registering for a minute.

Faith hurried over to Buffy, lifting the desk that had pinned the other Slayer with ease. Oz was on his feet quickly – a look towards Willow told him that she was alright, so he made his way to Xander, seeing the young man's limp arm. Carefully, he hooked his hand under Xander's shoulders and lifted him to his feet, the other teen sucking in air through clenched teeth at the pain.

“Thanks.” Xander managed after a moment. Oz nodded, then went over to Willow, as Cordelia and Giles got to their feet, battered and bruised, but still fundamentally alright. Cordelia hurried over to her boyfriend, careful to avoid brushing against his damaged arm.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Cordelia said softly, but in no uncertain terms. She looked around the room. Apart from Xander's arm, and the slight burns on Faith's stomach – her top was half-charred and gone in a few spots – no one seemed to have more than small cuts or bruises. The library was a complete shambles, true, but at least no one was badly hurt.

Well, no one but Catherine Madison, who seemed to be suffering from a terminal case of the 'my heart just exploded out of my chest' syndrome.

Once on his feet, Giles was the first to speak. “How the bloody hell did you do that?” He demanded, looking at Amy. “That was a, a killing curse, or some such thing! Magicks like that should be far beyond your abilities, you...” He started to continue, but then saw Amy's reaction – rather, lack thereof. She wasn't moving. She wasn't speaking. She wasn't even shifting her gaze from her mother's body.

“Leave off her, Jeeves!” Faith demanded, stepping between Giles and Amy. “She-”

“She just killed her mother, Faith.” Buffy interrupted, raising her voice. “I think we're way past 'leave off her' at this point.”

Faith got into Buffy's face. “Fine, she killed her. So what!? That bitch was going to kill all of us, if she'd gotten the chance, remember? It was self-defense!”

“It's a great deal more than any moral issues regarding the killing of Catherine Madison.” Giles objected after clearing his throat. “It's, uh, how on earth Amy was able to do it in the first place. The amount and kind of magical power to effect death in such a manner-”

“I didn't know...I don't know how...” Amy said suddenly, her voice hollow, empty and toneless. She started to babble, “I just...I just didn't want her to hurt Faith...I didn't want her to hurt  _anyone_...never again...I was...I was so scared...I was angry...everything she'd done...I just...I just wanted her to stop...I didn't mean...I don't know...” She fell silent once more.

Buffy, hearing Amy speak, bit her lip. Yeah, Amy had killed someone. She'd killed her own mother. That...that was a big deal. But...she hadn't meant it. It wasn't, uh, pre-meditated, the Slayer recalled the word from her interview with Detective Stein last year over Ted the Robot Boy. Buffy believed Amy, believed that she hadn't known what her spell would do...that she hadn't meant to kill anyone. There was no way Amy could be lying. Not with that tone and that look on her face.

Fine. Well, no, not fine, but still. She'd killed someone, by accident, in self-defense...not meaning to. In many ways, Buffy had done exactly the same thing. She hadn't known that Ted was a robot when she'd thrown him down the stairs and he had 'died'. She hadn't meant to kill him, but for a while, she had thought she had. In the heat of the moment, she had, essentially, killed him. The guilt she'd felt afterwards wasn't completely undone by the revelation that Ted hadn't been human, not really. She had killed what she'd then believed to be a human being.

And like Faith had said, Catherine Madison...she  ** _had_**  been trying to kill them all. And she'd been about to start with Faith...so Buffy couldn't just condemn Amy as a murderer, a killer...besides...

“We need to do something about the body.” Buffy spoke up, cutting in as Giles stated to speak again. She looked at the Watcher, and then everyone else. “We can handle the rest of it – whatever it is – after that. But first off, we need to get the remains out of here. Or, well, raise your hand if you want to call the cops and try to explain all this to Detective Stein. Any takers?” No one moved. “Thought not.”

As the Slayer finished up, everyone – Buffy included – just sort of looked at everyone else for a moment, silent. Finally, Xander spoke up, looking over at the older Chosen One. “Okay, Buff, do you have any ideas on where to dump the body?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope, sorry. I've never had to think about how to get rid of a dead body before.”

“How helpful.” Cordelia replied dryly. She gestured to the dead Catherine Madison. “We got a corpse on our hands, someone who's been missing in action for over two years no less, and all you can do is say we need to get rid of it, without offering any solutions of your own. Like I said, helpful.” Xander inclined his head to the left a little, in agreement with Cordelia.

“Well, I don't see  **you**  offering any ideas, Cordelia. Or you, Xander! You can both snark later, after we fix this. Anyone else?” Xander had the decency to look a little chastened, but Cordelia just rolled her eyes a little.

“Maybe we could dissolve the body.” Faith offered. Everyone looked at her. “I mean, isn't that what psycho-serial killers do in those stupid TV shows?” She asked defensively. “Dissolve the victims' bodies in acid, or whatever?”

“We had the right stuff, should be possible...” Oz said slowly, but his expression suddenly looking distasteful.

“We'd have a better chance of success getting enough lye, i-i-if we really wanted to go down that road.” Willow pointed out. “But...well, I don't know about any of you, but desecrating the dead doesn't exactly appeal.”

“Hey, no offense, but she was an evil bitch who woulda killed all of us and never lose a moment's sleep over it afterwards. I say, desecrate away!” Faith countered, to Cordelia's emphatic agreement.

“No.” Amy cut in. “She's still-” she trailed off, looking away from her mother's body. “Isn't there another way?”

“Yes, well. There are, uh, several options...” Giles said, after clearing his throat lightly for attention. “First and foremost, if we're going to move the body anywhere, we, we're going to need gloves. I don't want the Sunnydale police to check for fingerprints for once, and find any of ours.” The Watcher stepped into his office and rummaged around for a moment, coming out with a box of those disposable crime-scene gloves.

“What, were you a Boy Scout or something, Giles?” Buffy asked, wondering why on earth he'd had any of those on hand.

“Please, Buffy, the-the Watchers Academy was telling its trainees to be prepared for anything, well,  _centuries_  before scouting started up.” Giles removed a pair of the gloves and put them on. “As for what we do with the body, the quickest and simplest option would to carry it out of here, find the grave of a recently risen vampire and drop it in. We'll need to inter the remains properly, true, but that shouldn't be a, a, a major issue.” He looked to Amy. “There are still things we'll need to discuss after that's done, however. Burying the body won't bury the rest of the problems, as it were.”

Amy nodded slowly, haltingly. Her mind was still reeling in horror....her mother, dead by her hand. But...what had she expected to happen? Her mother had been insane...had been going to kill her...kill everyone else...kill  _Faith_. Faith, who had saved her life...but...she'd  _killed_  her mother. She hadn't meant it...but...and the spell, those words...whoever had given the spell to her, whoever he was...he had  _known_...he'd had to...but she'd had no other choice. 

None. No matter how she tried to figure out what else she might have done, Amy simply couldn't. She'd killed her mother.  Not on purpose, but it had nonetheless saved her life and everyone else's. The responsibility was on her...she'd known there was a catch...some cost...

But she hadn't cared. She'd killed her mother. The woman who had given birth to her – as much as she'd always seemed to regret doing it, by her own words – but...

Amy's mind swam in confusion, regret, guilt, sorrow, fear, anger, at everyone, at herself, at her mother, at the man who'd given her the spell...unfocused anger, undirected fear...

Refusing to direct her eyes back to her mother's dead body, she looked towards Faith, and then Giles. Slowly, Amy nodded. “Alright. Fine.”

Faith could hear the shaking in the other girl's voice, the uncertainty.  _On the plus side, she doesn't sound like she's got no fucking personality at all._ Faith wasn't sure why it mattered so much to her. There was...well, the fact that Amy had saved her life – had killed her own mother to save her life...and hell, she felt bad for Amy...like she'd said...the one person she'd met she wouldn't gladly trade moms with. Amy had a father that cared about her, true, but  _damn_ , the other parental unit just  _sucked_...

**January 23rd, 1999  
Mayor's Office, Sunnydale**

Richard Wilkins hummed to himself lightly as Spike walked into his office sullenly, arms crossed.  _Well, he's bloody happy._

“What?” Spike demanded. “What the hell did you need me for?”

“Language, William.” The Mayor said, tossing his hand to the left lightly, almost dismissively. Spike dropped to his knees as pain lanced everywhere throughout his body, gripping his hands to his head; which was on fire with indescribable agony. “Your stubborn resistance does you credit, perhaps, but it isn't going to help you much in the here and now. I am a very patient and very understanding man, if I do say so myself. But I do not have a limitless supply of patience, or understanding. Are we clear on that?” He steepled his fingers and looked over a Spike.

“Yeah, we're blo-” Spike abruptly cut himself off, not wanting another dose of whatever spell Wilkins had used. “Uh, I mean, right, we're clear.” Spike struggled to his feet, the after-effects of the pain leaving him swaying and staggering a little, as if he was just on the far side of tipsy.

“Good!” The Mayor said brightly, all smiles. He waited until Spike was no longer swaying before continuing. “Now, in a few days, some of my...well, associates, if you will, intend to activate my Hellmouth and destroy the world. I can't let them get away with something so impolite and unneighborly, so you're going to have to ensure they get dealt with.”

“No problem. Still, isn't that sort o' thing what you keep them Slayers around for?” Spike demanded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“I've always believed in backup plans, and so does the Sisterhood of Jhe. So be a team player, and make sure things turn out for the best.”

“Gotcha. Still, while we're on the subject – what exactly am I supposed to do, hang around the Watcher's library until they attack?”

The Mayor shrugged slightly. “Keep your eyes peeled and your ears open. Use your best judgment to make sure the world doesn't end. Everything else will take care of itself, I'm sure.”

“Right.” Spike started for the door, then turned back to the Mayor. “Wait, is that it? Can I go now?”

“For now, yes, that'll be all.” Wilkins returned to humming as Spike left. By now, Catherine Madison would be dead at her daughter's hand, and in just a few days, the Sisterhood of Jhe would be dealt with. It was always such a pleasure when things went exactly according to plan.

**January 23rd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

The uncomfortable but necessary task of moving and disposing of Catherine Madison's body having been completed, the Scoobies had assembled back into the library. There was still some work to be done on getting the whole place sorted out, and Giles had drafted both Slayers into helping him. Exasperated sighs came from both his charges as a response, but after a few moments – longer for Faith than Buffy – they set to work on helping get the desks, chairs and tables set back into place, or getting replacements from storage closets. Willow and Oz, although lacking the superior strength of the Slayers, helped out where they could.

Cordelia and Xander weren't present right now, though; the cheerleader had taken her boyfriend away for medical treatment, and Giles suspected that given Xander's injuries, they wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

“Amy, I know this is...difficult for you, to say the least, but it's also vitally important. The kind of power required to, to overcharge someone else's magical energies in the manner that you did to your mother is, uh, immense, and w-well beyond anything you should be capable at this point in your life. Outside of a, um, ritual calling on one of the old gods for empowerment, what's the most you could do with your magic before tonight?”

Amy paused for a moment considering. “I could...float pencils, perform some suggestion spells, and then there was that freezing vampires in their place trick I did last night...and even then, that took a lot of work. Few other small things, I guess. Like turning water vapor in the air into liquid water, though that was kind of a long-shot when I did it...”

“Driven by your quest for survival i-in the face of your mother's attack, yes. Which is where this must come from. Magic is a very connected to emotion and intent. During, uh, moments when emotion overtakes reason completely, often fear or anger, a spellcaster's magic can achieve things that would otherwise be impossible. But even then, there are...uh, well, upper limits on that power. The fact that you were capable of doing that to your mother suggests two things: One, that you're going to have to keep an ironclad control of your emotions in the future, or else your magic might go out of control-”

“You mean, if she gets too angry, she'll kill someone?” Willow asked slowly, edging away from Amy just a little.

“Nothing that extreme, uh, hopefully. But, err, any heightened emotion could lead to spontaneous displays of magic, with varied effects. Especially given the second factor, Amy: you possess the potential for an incredible amount of magical power. If this were anywhere other than Sunnydale, I-I'd suggest finding a reputable nearby coven to train you, both in control and knowledge. Contacting any covens that might be active on the Hellmouth, though, that would be...counter-productive, to say the least. So for the time being, at least, it seems that I'll have to provide you with some basic training.” He looked to Willow. “And you as well, since you seem insistent on continuing to develop your magical talent, despite my words of warning.”

“I can control it just fine, Giles!” Willow protested. “Especially if you stop being such a big ol' fuddy-duddy, and help me learn what I need to know! Hello, there's always someone trying to kill us around here, every week? Seriously, Xander makes all those jokes about you being Mr. Big Caution Man, but this town is pretty much a war zone – and sometimes, caution i-i-is something you can't afford to have in Sunnydale, not if you want to live!”

“Yes, well, you do make a point o-of sorts, and your eagerness is unsurprising.” Giles looked to Amy. “But for the record, your magic, and what you've done with it, has brought you onto dangerous ground, Amy. I don't know how you can get off it, but you must learn to control your magic – if you don't want to end up becoming just like your mother.”

Amy nodded, her thoughts still overwhelmed – and the idea that she could...could kill someone else with her magic, not meaning to..she had no idea what to do...and this option, what there was of it...was there any other choice?

No. Not if she wanted to stay on the straight and narrow, and not become the next Big Bad around here. 

Taking a deep breath, Amy nodded. “I understand.”

**January 26th, 1999  
Demon Nest, Sunnydale**

“Willow, you okay?” Buffy asked her friend, standing back up from helping Giles to his feet.

Putting the ceremonial candle into one hand, Willow waved the other dismissively, her voice faux-chipper. “Yeah, I'm fine. Th-the shaking is a side-effect of the fear.”

Buffy looked back to Giles, who was once again straightening his glasses to rest firmly on the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.” He said, standing free of her assistance.   
Buffy turned back to Willow. “Well, if it wasn't for that clouding spell-” She started to say.

“Yeah, it went good!” Willow gushed, pleased by her own efforts. “Nothing melted...like last time.” Her voice fell a little.

“These babes were wicked rowdy.” Faith drawled, holding her sword downwards by the hilt as she wandered away from the body. “What's their deal?”

“Well, uh, it would seem the Council's sources were correct. The Sisterhood of Jhe is moving in on Sunnydale. Frankly, I-I-I was hoping they were wrong. Ordinary vampires would have been far preferable.” Giles sighed.

“Sisterhood of Jhe? Why does that not make me think of singing and dancing nuns?” Buffy asked the obvious, lurking question.

“Because they're anything but that, even though I'm not entirely familiar with them. I've, uh, only had a chance to do a little research on them so far, but they're a dedicated and dangerous demonic cult, not afraid to give their lives for the cause.” Giles replied.

“And their cause is what, being blue and ugly?”

Giles resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Faith. “The, ah, end of the world, actually. It's standard operating procedure for demon cults.” He knelt down and touched a pen to the necklace around the demon's neck, lifting it up some. “If I'm going to figure out exactly what they're up to here, then we'll want to gather any artifacts they have.”

Buffy looked around. “I thought Xander was going to be here to help us out. Anyone know why the no-show, on his part?” Not that she  ** _minded_**  the fact that he wasn't here. While her male friend wasn't useless in a fight – far from it – he really wasn't a front-line kind of guy. Well, not against non-human opponents. He'd been trying to get better at fighting in the big leagues, just like he'd been learning Latin...but still. Normal human, and all that.

Well, maybe not so normal these days. Buffy still had issues there, especially after hearing that Angel had temporarily been blinded for poking his nose where it wasn't wanted concerning Xander's affairs. But normal or otherwise? Despite his...new source of information, and the slight grimness that he'd adopted from time to time, Buffy knew she couldn't let whatever distrust she was feeling for Xander stand. Because it wasn't really  ** _him_**  she was concerned about. It was whoever, or whatever, was providing him with information, and apparently not asking for anything in return. 

Sadly, Miss Summers had been burned way too often in the past to believe in altruistic offers of help anymore. Still, Buffy told herself, put yourself in Xander's shoes for a second – what was he supposed to do after receiving such (apparently) legitimate information? Ignore it? Not use it to help?

No, of course not. He'd done the best he could, getting around the  ** _stupid_**  limitations he'd somehow been put under. So now, she had stopped treating Xander with a certain distance, pretty much completely. And Xander, thankfully, wasn't seeming to hold anything against her. At the end of the day, he really was the same guy who had brought her back to life at the end of sophomore year, and could be trusted.

Buffy told herself that as firmly as she could, willing herself to believe it without question.

“He mentioned something about Queen C.” Faith replied to Buffy's original query. “I figure he's at her place, preparing to get lucky for the night.”

“Faith, uh, really...I, I very much didn't need any sort of mental image like that.” Giles commented, removing a small totem from the hand of another dead demon.

“Besides, you can't know for sure that's what they're doing!” Willow protested. “Besides, yeah, I really don't want that image in my head either...”

“Oh, come on Red,” Faith countered, smirking. “You gotta know by now that those two are screwing each other senseless, right? Only reason a guy ever gets a big, dope-y grin like that on his face, is sex! Been seeing it for months now; you telling me you haven't?”

“We can talk about Xander's sex life later...or preferably, never.” Buffy opined with a visible shudder. “Right now, we have dead demons and a cult that probably wants to end the world.” She looked to Giles. “The bodies?”

“I imagine we can leave these to the local scavengers.” Giles noted. “Someone should check to see if Willy knows anything about where others of their kind might be, o-or what exactly they're planning.”

“I'll take care of that.” Faith offered. “Besides. Easiest place to score some booze, since he ain't dumb enough to try to card me.”  _Afterwards I oughta drop by Amy's and get her smashed, after her dad heads off to work. Girl needs to get over what happened with her mom._  In Faith's view, getting drunk and partying was definitely the best solution for that problem. Amy was still moping over what had happened – and well, yeah, it made sense, but Faith didn't enjoy seeing the girl like that.  _She saved my life. May as well try and pay her back for it._

Giles bit back a disapproving statement, and Buffy just looked at Faith oddly a moment.  _How can she like the taste of that stuff? Was her dominant thought._ Once, just once, Buffy had tasted beer. She remembered subsequently wondering why anyone needed to be told to stay away from it. 

The fact that Faith was also legally too young to drink was very much a side-issue, given everything else that her sister Slayer had gotten up to, even only counting what Buffy knew about. “Alright, fine. I'll check with Angel.” The blonde Chosen One added. “See if he can get word from anyone he knows.”

“A good plan. And I'll-”

“Consult your books.” Buffy, Willow and Faith said in almost perfect unison, finishing for him. Giles was too tired to even glare at them for it.

**January 26th, 1999  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Once again, Cordelia's parents were out of town; and once again, she and Xander had the house to themselves, with Lupe the maid once again being allowed to go home early. And contrary to Scooby Gang opinions on the matter, the teenage couple were not currently boinking each other's brains out. 

Oh, that wasn't to say that sexual relations resulting in multiple orgasms for both parties wasn't taking place – in fact, their physical relationship had become very intense lately, resulting in buying extra condoms and birth control – but such things usually took place at Xander's house, with Jessica Harris conveniently turning a deaf ear to what her son and his girlfriend got up to in the privacy of his bedroom. Still, they didn't have sex together every night; and this evening, the two crazy kids were up to something different.

“Xander, come on!” Cordelia protested, as Xander stood on a stepladder, rummaging around on one of the higher shelves in her dad's office.

“Hey, you were the one you told me you had your hair dyed pink when you were five.” Xander pointed out. “So now we're going to find the pictures to prove it, one way or the other.”

“Stop it, you...you  **dork**!” Cordy protested again, grabbing at his arm. “Come down from there, dammit! I told you, you're not going to see those-” Xander shifted on the stepladder, but in concert with Cordelia's tugging, he lost his balance, falling off the ladder, colliding with the corner of Mr. Chase's desk and landing on Cordelia, both of them 'oofing' loudly. A scattering of papers fell off the desk as well, landing all over the floor.

“Get off me!” Cordelia pushed Xander off of herself, but he turned over on top of her and ran his fingers over her sides, her neck, moving quickly. Immediately Cordelia responded to the tickling, half-laughing, half-screaming in partial surprise at Xander's action. After a minute or so, she managed to get a 'Stop!' out completely, and pushed Xander away. “Not fair!” She hit him in the chest lightly. “I've told you not to do that!” 

“Well, hey, I thought you liked it. I distinctly recall something in my bedroom the other night...” 

“That's not what I – MMPH!” Cordelia didn't get the chance to finish her sentence, as her boyfriend locked his lips against hers and proceeded to mine for tonsils. Harris was talented enough with his tongue to distract her for a few minutes, before she finally pushed him away after feeling a suspicious bulge in his pants. “God. Is sex all you think about?” 

“Honey, I'm straight, eighteen, and in love with the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Do the math, already!” 

Cordelia felt her insides melt at once. They always did, after hearing the L-word from her boyfriend's lips. Even after all these months, she never got tired of hearing that Xander freaking Harris loved her.  **Her**. Not the most popular girl in school, not the rich high society princess, not the girl who'd made his life hell up until the eleventh grade. Just her. “Well, yeah, I have. And even putting aside the fact you lucked out  **light years**  beyond what you should have...”

“Something I give thanks for daily, just for the record.”    
   
“As you should, doofus. Just remember, though, I'm Cordelia Chase! And  ** _I'm_**  the one who decides when and where you get to have me.” Warning sternly delivered, she looked over at the fallen papers. “Oh, crap!” She pulled herself to her feet. “Come on, gimme a hand. We'd better get these back on the desk, or my dad's going to be pissed. Last time his paperwork got screwed up, he yanked all my credit cards for a week!”

“Well, we wouldn't want that.” Xander said with an un-serious smile, but he helped her gather the papers up. “I mean, Cordelia Chase, Queen of Sunnydale High without her Visa...” He trailed off when he saw Cordelia, standing stock still, one of the pieces of paper in her hand. “Cordy? What is it, what's wrong?” He stepped closer to her, craning his neck a little to read the paper. Damn, that print was small.

“Dammit, dad...” Cordelia cursed softly. “What the hell did you do?!” 

That was when Xander saw three letters right at the top of the paper, in clear, bold, black ink. Letters that rarely meant anything good for any U.S. citizen.

**I.R.S.**

January 27th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High-detail

“Based on the artifacts we recovered from them, and taking into account the current astral cycle-” Giles started to say, setting a book down near the door into his office.

Buffy interrupted. “Giles, I don't need to see the math. Just tell me the final number.”

Despairing of Buffy ever taking seriously the difficulties of research, Giles got straight to the point. The grim, serious, deadly point. “They intend to open the Hellmouth.”

_Wait, what? I didn't hear that right. Did I?_  Buffy looked up at Giles. “The Hellmouth...the one that opens...” She turned her head, looking at the table – or rather, right next to it.

Giles nodded. “About twenty feet from where you're standing.” His own gaze was directed to the same spot, while, as if to punctuate the mood, Oz, now fully transformed into his werewolf aspect, howled and crashed up against his cage, clawing at it, escape and mayhem and slaughter the only things on his lycanthropic mind.

“Well,” Buffy said slowly, “We'll just have to stop them.”

“Given that the Beast that rose the last time the Hellmouth partially opened would be the prelude to the end of the world, most definitely. Did Angel have any helpful information?”

“He didn't know where they might be hiding, but he'll keep his eyes and ears open.” She looked away from the spot, back to Giles. “How do we stop them? Better yet, how long do we have?”

“Killing them all, if we can manage it, would be the most effective option. Uh, there may be some rituals that can stop them from opening the Hellmouth, depending on when they try it...but as for the when, I have no idea. According to Faith, Willy doesn't know much that's helpful either.”

“So, what, we're flying blind here? We don't know when they're going to do it, or even where they are so we can kill them first?”

“Essentially, yes.” Giles admitted. “Well, I've warned the Council. Given the enormity of the situation we're dealing with, they'll send us some support within a few days. They have a team in Vancouver that was sent to deal with a cult of Lurite demon-worshippers, and more will arrive as they can. If we can just have a few weeks, we can deal with the Sisterhood and be done with it.”

“Giles, how often do we have a few weeks between finding out about the latest bad-guy plan to destroy the world, and the bad guys starting up with it?” Buffy asked.

“Well, never, I suppose.” Giles admitted.

“My point exactly.”

**January 28th, 1999  
Weatherly Park, Sunnydale**

“Faith, I appreciate you trying,” Amy said slowly, as they made their way through a park, the dark and heavy Sunnydale skies above them. “But I don't think I want to get that drunk again. Or really, drunk at all again. And...I don't know if it really helped...” Her expression and tone was apologetic...she really did appreciate Faith trying.

“Hey, getting drunk isn't something you want to do anymore, that's fine.” She looked to Amy. “At least now you're less...well, all robot-y.”

“Uh, I've had some time to think about things. And it helps that you're trying, really. Because – well, everyone else is kind of giving me a wide berth. Well, apart from Buffy. She's not being very judgmental either, but she's still not actively coming over to try and help. I really appreciate-”

Suddenly Amy went quiet with an 'oof' sound, and Faith turned to see her sprawled on the ground, a blue-skinned demon – another one of that crazy 'Sisterhood' standing there. Faith lunged at the demon, pushing her back a few feet with a kick to the legs, but not knocking her down. Still, it gave Faith the opening she needed. Ducking down, she pulled a knife from her boot. The Jhe demon came at her again.

“Nothing will stand in the way of our triumph!” The demon hissed. She grabbed at Faith, throwing her aside, then following after her.

“I think you being dead will get in the way of winning.” Faith replied, jumping smoothly to her feet. Behind the demon, she saw Amy struggling to her feet. She tried to gesture at the witch to get away, now. Of course, she couldn't let the demon know what she was doing, either...and either Amy wasn't going to listen, or she wasn't getting the message, because the witch made no attempt to run for it as she pulled herself up.

Faith's attention was pulled away from Amy as the demon-bitch swung a fist at her. Faith ducked, and stabbed at the demon, who herself evaded the attack. The two were soon engaged in a brutal back and forth, managing to land a few kicks and punches – Faith even got a minor scratch onto the demon's arm – but neither taking the other down. Suddenly, the demoness froze – for perhaps a split second, with Amy behind them and her arm outstretched. But then the demon was moving again. With a kick to the chest, Faith was sent staggering back, and the soulless creature moved for Amy.

“Your magicks are puny, like your own mortal nature!” The demon hissed, moving towards Amy. The Madison girl screamed and started to run, but the demon was moving faster than expected – just as the demon reached out for Amy, Faith grabbed onto it, one arm around its middle, pulling it back. Swinging her knife around, she got the demon right in the side....

And God- _damn_ , but that didn't slow it even a little. 

The Jhe demon pushed back, throwing Faith off her, and then the demon picked the Slayer up like a rag doll, banging her against a chain-link fence once, then twice. Faith kicked out at the demon, but she only got her leg caught in a vice-like grip, once again swinging Faith around and into the fence – then, in a blur of black leather coat and peroxide-blonde hair, the demon was fighting someone else. The guy's speed, the punches he was delivering to the demon said he wasn't human...then she saw the face.  _Spike_. 

Granted, she'd only seen the guy once, that night Willow was kidnapped – but Faith knew he and Buffy had a history, and so did her boy-toy Angel. And that he was evil.

So what the hell's he doing? Moving away from him, and the fight, Faith went over to Amy. “Go find Giles.”

“I'm not going to just leave you!” Amy countered.

“Amy, God damn it-” Faith started to argue with her – but with a loud cracking sound, Spike twisted the neck of the Jhe demon, letting it drop to the ground in a dead heap of flesh. Faith pulled a stake from her pocket, ready to move on Spike.

“Oi, Slayer, no need for that. I'm on your side – well, tonight, anyway.”

“Like I'm supposed to believe that, Billy Idol?”

“'Ere, don't you call me that! And it's not my choice, believe me.” Spike said, frowning. “And as much as I'd love to add a third Slayer to my kill count before I take on Goldilocks, Trick's got dibs on killing you. Besides, sodding hell – you do have an end of the world to stop. You know, complete with a Hellmouth opening?” Spike lit a cigarette and then, taking a long drag from it, jumped over the chain-link fence. “Not the first time I've allied meself with the enemy to prevent this world from ending, luv.  Ask the Watcher if ya don't believe me. Be seeing you, Slayer...” He subsequently vanished from sight.

“Has this town always been so crazy, and I never even noticed until now?” Amy asked, looking bewildered.

“Beats the hell out of me.”  

**January 28th, 1999  
Outside the Bronze, Sunnydale**

Xander made his way to Cordelia's car, he had brought his girlfriend here to the nightclub to enjoy herself for the evening; but of all the rotten luck, he'd run into Jack O’Toole on the way back to the vehicle to retrieve her purse. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly or entirely luck; these days, knowledge of the Jester and the Librarian of Fate had prejudiced Xander's viewpoint on such things a  ** _lot_**.

Be that as it may, though, upon realizing O'Toole was a psycho with a long knife called 'Katie', “You gave it a girl's name. How very serial killer of you,” Xander commented.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on your point of view, Cordelia came out of the club looking for him. “Xander? What’s taking you so long?”

Getting annoyed at the interruption, Jack went to stab Harris before getting back to business; namely, stealing a car to go and raise his buddies from their graves. But Harris turned out not to be such an easy mark, as they struggled for control of 'Katie'...

Cordelia screamed Xander’s name as she watched the battle, and then a Sunnydale PD cop showed up. “Hey! What’s going on here?” He demanded.

“Nothing. Just rasslin’.” Jack tried to bluff his way out of it, as he hid the knife.

“As if! He just tried to stab my boyfriend!” Cordy yelled, before Xander had the chance to say anything.

Looking at the cut on Xander’s cheek and then at the other person present, the police officer smiled in recognition. “O’Toole? What a surprise…” Gun out the man then pushed the zombie up against the wall, frisked him and then cuffed him like this had really made his day. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…” 

Finishing the spiel the bluesuit dragged the zombie away, after getting Xander and Cordy’s names and addresses for the paperwork and court appearance. 

In the meantime, Cordelia had started fussing over Xander’s minor wounds. “Are you okay?”

Xander sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine…”

At that point, Angel came out of the club. He stopped as he saw the two teens not far away, “You two alright?”

“Yep. More or less.” Xander shrugged. He then looked more closely at the ensouled vampire. “You look worried, pal. Anything we should know?”

“Tonight's the end of the world, apparently.”

Xander and Cordelia stared at each other and said in perfect unison, “AGAIN?”

**anuary 29th, 1999  
The Quad, Sunnydale High**

Cut, banged up, or bruised – or with a broken arm, in the case of Buffy – the entire Scooby gang, even Cordelia, were sitting around two pushed-together picnic tables. Even Faith and Amy were present during this lunchtime.

“...and even after the Hellmouth closed, you could still hear it screaming.” Willow said of the Hellmouth Beast – which had indeed, managed to emerge from the Hellmouth last night, during the worst part of the fight against the Sisterhood of Jhe.

Oz looked at Buffy. “But Angel's going to be okay?”

Buffy nodded. “He was only out for a few minutes...” She swallowed. “Longest of my life.”

“I will  _never_  forget that thing's face.” Willow said, shaking her head slowly. “Its  **real**  face, I mean.”

“Yes.” Giles agreed slowly. He looked over at Buffy as she started to speak.

“I don't even know how you managed. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen.” The Summers girl told him.

“Stupidest.” Giles corrected, even as he grinned. Despite himself, he gently touched the bandages on his neck, to make sure they were in place. The scratches on his face and ear weren't bandaged, though. “But, the world continues to turn.”

“It's kinda mind-boggling, though,” Amy said slowly. “That it is, I mean...”

Willow agreed, “No one will ever know how close it came to stopping. Never know what we did.”

Xander shrugged. “Yeah, I dunno. It's annoying how we can't tell everyone we saved the world, but you know, that's just the way it is.”

“Still, we should be able to tell people. I mean, hey, they should be on their knees thanking us for saving their butts!” Cordelia said from next to her boyfriend.

“No one would believe you.” Giles pointed out. “The veil of ignorance is too strong, and these days, the kind of worldwide panic that would result from such disclosure would be, um, utterly catastrophic.”

“Can't say I didn't sleep better before knowing about all this.” Oz commented. “But, question: what's the deal with that disarmed bomb in the boiler room? And Jack O'Toole's body next to it – and those zombies as well?”

“Even better question,” Faith interjected, missing the look that Xander and Cordelia shared. “Why the hell was Spike fighting the Sisterhood last night, or at least enough to help me out that one time? And what did he mean that it wasn't his choice? Someone else is calling Captain Peroxide's shots now?”

“That's, that's entirely possible – Trick did, uh, save his unlife for a reason, after all.” Giles noted. Before he could continue down that line of argument, the bell rang, signaling the start of afternoon classes. As they all – apart from Faith, who wasn't a student here – got up and grabbed packs and books, Cordelia approached Willow.

“Willow-” Cordelia started slowly. “Can we talk after school? Alone?” She almost bit her lip. She'd successfully managed to blow Xander off about the IRS letter...but Cordelia had done some extra poking around in her dad's office over the past three days...and there had been no obvious signs of financial irregularities, but...

“Cordelia, what??” Willow almost couldn't believe it. They'd been getting along a little better lately, and last night had been something of a bonding experience, but they still mostly just managed to be civil for Xander's sake.

“Willow...there's isn't an easy way for me to say this, so I'm just going to say it. I need your help.”


	15. Episode 14: You Can't Stop Everything

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I do own the Iron Coin, the Jester, The Librarian, The Hydra and related things.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta.

**Author's Note:**  On the off chance any of you are interested in my random ramblings about The Iron Coin Chronicles, Buffy the Vampire and Angel the Series – along with writing updates and occasional teaser excerpts, I direct you to my tumblr. alkenifanfiction. Tumblr. Com (the extraneous spaces must be removed, obviously).

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Chapter 14: You Can't Stop Everything

**January 29th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Willow sat waiting in the library for Cordelia, after classes were over for the day. Part of her wondered why she was here, just waiting around doing nothing. Well, not exactly. The hacker and apprentice witch knew  ** _why_**  she was waiting here – Cordelia had asked to speak with her after school was over for the day, because the other girl needed her help.

But then that really begged the question, why had she agreed to help Cordelia? This was the girl who had, since first grade, made her life hell. The spoiled princess who had picked on her, bullied her, and constantly belittled her. Year in and year out.

Okay, to be fair, Cordelia hadn't actually done that in over a year. Willow knew the Queen of Mean had refrained from actively picking on her during school hours – they still didn't always get along, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been at the start of sophomore year. All right, fine; Cordelia was no longer acting like a complete bitch. She had...mellowed. Changed.

And, of course, the reason  ** _why_**  she'd changed was because Cordelia was now dating Xander Harris. Her unrequited former crush. Her best friend...well, no, that spot was actually occupied by Buffy nowadays, but still Xander was her oldest friend. 

In her mind, Willow could trace the changes back to the start of junior year – granted, as she'd gotten more involved in the fight against the vamps and demons around here, Cordelia had become a better person, at least a bit. But really, it was only since she had started to date Xander that the Chase girl had become something other than a rich bitch. One whose glare could reduce unsuspecting freshmen into a twitching, nervous mess.

And of course, that was a big part of the reason why she had agreed to help the head cheerleader. For reasons that Willow still didn't understand (apart from the fact that his girlfriend had a face and body that nearly made him drool at the mere sight of her, especially her breasts), Xander was dating Cordelia. They had been together for over a year, so obviously he cared about her. Indeed, he seemed to care about her a lot. Ergo, helping Cordelia would be the kind of thing that Xander would want her to do. So in Willow's mind, it was as much a favor for her oldest friend as it was for the popular girl who needed her help.

There was a bit of curiosity there as well, to be honest. Cordelia had actually asked her for help. Why? She'd never done that before; well, apart from homework and stuff, pre-Buffy. And she'd seemed...well, like she really needed the help. That made Willow feel a bit concerned – Cordelia had never seemed visibly worried before. If she was, then whatever the problem was, it had to be really bad.

The door to the library opened, and Willow stirred from her thoughts to see Cordelia coming into the room.

“Willow, good.” Cordelia said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I'm glad you're here. I...hang on.” She looked to make sure the door to Giles' office was closed.

“He's agreed to stay in there while we talk, gives us some privacy.” Willow said, curiously. “So...what's the problem?”

Cordelia started to hand Willow a folded piece of paper, then held back a moment. “Before I show you this, you gotta promise me that you won't tell anyone – not Buffy, not Giles, not even Oz. Xander knows most...well, some of it, but still – don't talk to  ** _him_**  about this, either. Please. Swear to me by everything you hold sacred that you won't break my confidence?”

Willow looked at Cordelia a moment. The cheerleader was actually serious...this really had her bothered, worried, and...the red-haired witch-in-training nodded. “Okay, as long as it's not something that's gonna result in something, like, apocalyptic, I won't talk to anyone about it. But...Cordelia, what's going on?”

“It'll save time and make more sense if you just read this.” Cordelia handed the paper to her. Frowning, Willow took the paper and unfolded it in her hands. And true enough, it didn't take the female genius long to realize the magnitude of problem – and reading through the rest of the letter just confirmed her initial impressions.

Cordelia's father had been cheating on his taxes for the last twelve years, and now the IRS had finally caught onto it. The amount of money he owed...Willow had trouble wrapping her mind around such a high number, to be honest. And he was going to end up in jail for years, too, if the IRS won the court case.

“I already know that Daddy's going to lose the upcoming battle in court, no matter what kind of plea-bargain he tries to make or what kind of expensive lawyers he tries to hire. He got caught red-handed, and even worse, the Feds are angry enough to want to make an example out of him – thanks to our accountant turning state's evidence, in return for immunity from prosecution. I know when my father's lying, and he was lying when I confronted him with, with that.” Cordelia gestured to the paper. “And the truth is, I don't care if he goes to jail any longer – it's own his fault...” 

_How's that for a daughter's love for her father?_  Willow thought to herself sourly, as Cordelia continued. “He's the one who decided to cheat on his taxes, and now he's gotta live with the consequences. But that's just it – I didn't!”

Cordelia looked at Willow directly. “I spoke to my mom, and she didn't even bother to deny it. We're going to lose everything, Willow –  _I'm_  going to lose everything! The house, my, my clothes, basically everything I own!” Cordelia reached into her purse and took out a handful of letters. “I already got accepted into colleges –  _good_  colleges! But without the family money, I won't be able to go to a single one of them!” Cordelia sounded frantic, voice quickly rising in pitch and volume. “I'm going to be left with almost nothing. And this isn't even my fault!” Cordelia forced herself to stop, before she got herself into a frenzy – again – and before she raised her voice even more. 

“Damn it, Willow, I'm supposed to have a future! I mean, assuming we survive the rest of the year here at Hellmouth High and all that, but for God's sake – ending up dirt poor? I mean, what, am I going to have to live like a nametag person? Please, Willow, there's got to be something you can do!”

“What...uh, what do you want me to do, hack the IRS?” Willow said, biting back the sarcasm she could have put in her tone – and the even more sarcastic and entirely unhelpful remark she wanted to make about karmic payback being a bitch...

Cordelia looked at her, taking the offer at face value. “Can you?” Cordelia was hardly computer savvy – she still remembered the 'press deliver' incident that had happened two years ago. While she'd been annoyed at the time, now she just had to respect Willow's cleverness with that trick.

“I dunno. Maybe I  _could_ , but given just how many levels of illegal that is?” Willow shook her head. “I don't think I  **** _should_ , and besides, I don't want to risk ending up in trouble myself for doing something like that.” Okay, so boo-hoo that Cordelia was going to lose all her credit cards and her fancy clothes and the rest of her material possessions. It would suck, but Willow couldn't bring herself to care that much about it. But she had to empathize with Cordelia's bigger problem. If her house was taken away, if all her money vanished...she'd have nowhere to live (a dangerous proposition in Sunnydale) and...well, she'd have no way to pay for college. 

And higher education was important!! Willow had seen, on the acceptance letter envelopes that Cordelia had brandished for a moment, the words 'Columbia' and 'Duke'. Both were good colleges. She wouldn't have anything to go there with, or well, pay for food or anything while at college. 

Willow wouldn't wish something like that even on the Cordelia of two years ago, let alone this one that was dating her oldest friend and wasn't anywhere near as nasty as she had been before.

“I, I can't promise anything.” Willow said in the end. “But since you're Xander's girlfriend, and we both know he'd get down on his knees and plead with me to do anything and everything I can to help you, I'll see what I can do to save you from becoming completely bankrupt. If you can give me any information you have on, like...where your dad keeps his money, bank-wise, that would help. Maybe I can transfer the funds out before the IRS freezes the accounts, if they haven't done so already.”

Cordelia nodded, “Alright...” She paused a moment. “I can tell you details regarding my trust fund right now, I have them memorized. And...thanks for doing this.”

**January 29th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

“We need to talk.” Cordelia said, as she and Xander arrived at his home after the meeting with Willow was over.

“About what?” Harris stared at her curiously.

The brunette hesitated, looking around the house as they went down the hall to the lounge room. “Your mom?”

Xander shrugged. “It's Friday night, and she's out of town – visiting my grandma in Oakland. Guess that means we've got the entire house to ourselves, 'til Monday.” The young man suddenly smirked. “So, then, can I entice you into spending the evening here? The weekend too, maybe?”

“God! Is  ** _that_**  all you can think about?” Cordelia looked at him in annoyance. “Xander, there's more to life than just sex, and seriously hot make-out sessions!”

“Such as?” 

The Chase girl brought out the letter she had shown Willow earlier on in the library, the letter he'd seen a glimpse of a few days before. “Siddown on the couch, dork. You're my boyfriend, so I'm kinda obligated to tell you about the  ** _tiny_**  problem my dad's developed with the IRS...” 

**February 10th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Xander strolled into the library as students milled around in the hallways and lounges, some already sitting inside their classrooms. Homeroom was officially over and classes would be starting for the day in about five minutes, but Giles had asked for Xander to come see him in the library this morning. Whatever it was he wanted to discuss, it had had Giles sounding somewhere between annoyed and disgusted during the phone call he'd made.

The Iron Coin had, in its lovely unhelpful way, shown him next to nothing recently in terms of his friends' lives, or what was going to happen during this meeting. And all of Cordelia's 'it's just a tiny mistake that will hopefully be sorted out soon' protests aside, Xander didn't feel so confident about her father's chances of fixing the 'problem' he had. It was the freaking IRS he was in trouble with, after all. But the Coin had shown him nothing recently about any of the Chase family members, not even the girl he was currently sleeping with. Nothing about Buffy, or Faith, or Willow, or Oz, anyone. It had gotten to the point where he was using it nightly, just to be sure.

Maybe the forces of Fate, and the Librarian, had come up with some way to shield their activities from the Iron Coin's sight? Now  ** _that_**  was a troubling thought. If that was the case, though, wouldn't the forces of Chaos and the Jester be aware of that? And done something about it? Unless of course they found it more amusing to watch him flounder about, wondering what to do next...

Putting away such thoughts, Xander noticed that Giles was not alone in the library. There were several boxes on the central table, which Giles was sitting at, glasses off and one hand rubbing at his left temple. The other man in the room, from the voice, was also British, and just....

Xander had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. The new guy took everything that had ever been a complaint about the way Giles dressed or looked, and dialed it up to eleven. The hair so carefully combed into place, the suit pressed just so, the tie – the look wasn't all that bad, maybe, but the new arrival carried himself with such...pompousness. Xander couldn't help but laugh a little, inadvertently interrupting the British man.

“...the Council has updated the Handbook again, so I suspect you'll want to make sure your Slayer has one-” Wesley cut himself off, as he heard Xander laughing and looked around to the source of the voice.

“Good, Xander, you're here.” Giles said, biting back a sigh of relief. He turned to Wesley. “This is Xander Harris, one of the-”

“Civilians that help the Slayers stationed here, yes, yes, I'm aware.” Wesley said, looking Xander over.

“I'm gonna say, new Watcher?” Xander guessed. Who else would have the accent here in Sunnydale? “So, you checked with the Council this time? No memos out on this guy, right?”

“No, uh, his paperwork is all in order. Xander, permit me to formally introduce Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Xander.” Giles gestured back and forth between the two of them. “Wesley is here to take up the post of Faith's Watcher.”

Xander looked to Wesley again, then raised an eyebrow. “Really? I bet she'll be thrilled to hear that.”

Wesley just gave him a look, or tried to anyway. Wow, even Harmony – Harmony! - could give him a more withering look than this guy could. “I'm well aware of Miss Lehane's unruly nature, Mr. Harris. A quality that can easily be credited to the lack of discipline you've imparted to both Slayers, Mr. Giles.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Giles didn't physically roll his eyes – but he didn't need to. His tone had it all in spades.

“Yep. Faith is gonna  _love_  you.” Xander confirmed, repeating his earlier sentiment.

Before Wesley could reply, Giles cut in. “Unfortunately, I have some matters to discuss with Mr. Harris in my office.” Xander started to head for the door, but Wesley decided to interject.

“Anything you discuss with a civilian regarding the situation in Sunnydale, you can also discuss in front -” He started to say.

“No, no, this has nothing to do with either of the Slayers, or my role as a Watcher, I assure you.” Giles interrupted hastily. “The lad and I have some private issues to discuss, that's all.”

Wesley looked at both of them, and seemed about to protest further; but then apparently thought better of it, or at least decided not to make a fuss when he couldn't prove that it was any of his business. Wesley just turned and went back to unpacking books from his boxes.

Giles followed Xander into his office and closed the door behind him. Once it was closed, Giles removed his glasses, “Please tell me that you know something, anything about this – about  ** _him_**.” 

“Sorry, Giles, I got nothing.” 

Rupert pinched the bridged of his nose. “Gwendolyn Post was almost more tolerable than that bloody prat. I still hold out hope that there was a memo about him that I've missed!”

“That bad?” Xander asked, sympathizing. Even spending just a couple of minutes with 'Mr. Wyndam-Pryce' (and wasn't that the mother of all land of tea and crumpet last names, if there ever was one?) had almost physically hurt.

“Insufferably so.” Giles confirmed. “I shudder to think how Buffy would have reacted, if I had been that bad when she first came to Sunnydale.”

“I don't know if that would actually have been possible.” Xander said, smiling for a moment. “Watcher 2.0 feels more like a bad remake than a real show.”

“Good Lord, I think I actually understood that sentence.”  _And what a troubling concept that is._  He really was spending too much time around American teenagers. “So, you didn't know anything about his arrival?” He asked again, taking things back to the main point.

“Nope.” Xander shook his head. “Not a thing.” He pointed to the door, as if to Wesley on the far side of it. “I'd have warned you about anything even remotely that bad. Actually, while we're on the subject,” he continued, voice a little more pensive. “The thing is, I haven't been getting anything in the way of information for a while now. Over a week.”  _Not that I haven't been trying._ The Jester hadn't stopped by for any visits either, which was another issue of...debatable concern.

“I see. Hrmm. I honestly don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.” Giles sighed. “On the one hand, knowing what's coming next seems useful, but then again...the things you've had forewarning about have been fairly problematic, to say the least. So if you don't know anything – is that a good sign about the upcoming future?” He shook his head. “I take it you don't know the answer to that question, either?”

“To be honest, no, I don't. I've been asking myself that for the last few days, but I don't have a clue.” He paused, trying to figure out the best way to put it, in a way that whatever it was that was stopping him spilling the beans – this 'Hydra', it seemed maybe, that Xander had never met yet. Finally, he said, “Giles, I've always known that the...warnings I get, they're limited to...certain kinds of information. Things that don't fall into that category, I figure just aren't going to get told to me. And that's leaving aside everything else.”  _Like if the Jester is deliberately stopping me from seeing some things at times. I can't tell._

Xander sighed, “So no, no clues on this Wyndam-Pryce guy.” He looked to the door again, then back to Giles. “What's the deal with him, anyway? Is he in charge around here now, or what?”

“No, thank God.” Giles really did shudder at that thought. “I remain Buffy's Watcher, and my position on that front is quite secure. Quentin Travers is still far too weak, politically speaking, to threaten me with removal for the time being. He's just managed to get one of his people installed as Faith's Watcher, not that he can't do enough damage from that position as it is. On the positive side of things, because I'm senior Watcher on the Hellmouth, if it involves both Buffy and Faith, I have primacy. Which, given the nature of things here, should be often. Pryce is Travers' protegee, and almost certainly here to spy for him. He's also a man who, at first glance, goes completely by the Watcher Handbook; which may work to our advantage, in certain situations. But maybe not others.”

“So no real verdict?”

“Just that he's a completely insufferable ponce.” Giles answered with a sigh. Then he added, “You should get to class...and in the meantime, I shall endeavor to deal with Mr. Wyndam-Pryce...without maiming him.”

**February 10th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Buffy walked into the library, wondering what it was that Giles had asked Willow to tell her to come see him about. Of course, she got a pretty good idea when she heard a smug, British-accented voice speaking – and when she saw the guy wearing that ridiculous suit, it was basically a given why he'd wanted to see her.

“...two vampires myself. Under controlled circumstances, of course.” The new arrival said, as if it was some glorious achievement.

Giles, who had been standing, leaning back a bit against the table, uncrossed his arms and rolled his eyes just a touch. “Well, no danger of finding those here.”

“What, vampires?” The man looked up from the box of books.

“Controlled circumstances.” Giles stood up, seeing Buffy walk in. “Hello, Buffy.” 

Hearing that, the blonde Slayer saw the other man look over at her, the look on his face as smug as his voice. He walked around to stand at the front of the table, and examined her closely. “Well. Hello.” 

Buffy didn't need long to get the measure of him. Instead, she just looked to Giles. “New Watcher?”

“Faith's new Watcher, yes.” Giles confirmed. “Buffy, meet Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, meet Buffy.” 

Buffy immediately thought to herself,  _That Wesley Wyndam-Pryce? Giles, I told you you'd jinxed it!_

“A pleasure.” Wesley said, holding out his hand. 

_You expect me to shake that?_  Buffy just ignored him and looked back to Giles. “Is he evil?”

“Evil?” Wesley's smug tone was replaced with confusion. It didn't make him sound any less pompous, though.

“The last one was evil.” Buffy explained for the man's benefit. What, did the Watchers not tell him anything about what had happened here in the Hellmouth? _Wouldn't be surprised. He'd be wetting himself, if he's as useless as he seems._

“Oh, yes.” he said thoughtfully – or at least a nice play at it. “Gwendolyn Post. We all heard about that rather nasty business. No, Mr. Giles has checked my credentials rather thoroughly and phoned the Council, but I'm glad to see you're on the ball as well.” He looked to the door. “Where is Faith, by the way?”

Buffy looked back to Giles and repeated herself. “Is he evil?” She hadn't gotten an answer from her Watcher, after all.

“Not as such, no.” Giles replied, sounding just a hint disappointed by that fact. He looked to Wesley. “I asked Amy to tell Faith I needed to speak with her, so she should be here soon.” He looked back to Buffy. “In the meantime, what were the results of last night's patrol? Anything noteworthy?”

Buffy shook her head. “Just vampires.” Then she remembered what she'd wanted to talk to Giles about anyway, before Willow had passed on his message. “No, wait, one of them had these two swords. He didn't seem to be with the other bloodsuckers.”

“Two swords?” Wesley interjected. He went over to the box of books and took a volume out, leafing through it quickly. “One long, one short?”

“Yea...with, like, jewels and things on the handles.” Buffy added to Giles.

“Sounds familiar...” Giles said, reaching for his glasses. He stopped taking them off when Wesley handed him an open volume.

“It should.” Wesley said, as he gave Giles the book.

“Yes, of course...El Eliminati. Fifteenth century-” Giles said, reading from the passage Wesley had found.

“Fifteenth century dueling cult, yes, and they also-” Wesley started, interrupting Giles enthusiastically. He shut up when Giles gave him a look. “Ah. Sorry.” Wesley said, not sounding apologetic.

“In their day, they were deadly and widespread.” Giles said. “But they appear to have greatly dwindled in number, in large part because they spent too much time dueling each other.” Giles turned the page. “They took to following a demon named Balthazar, who led them to the New World – specifically, the Hellmouth here. By all reports, Balthazar was killed about a hundred years ago and the cult dispersed.” He handed Wesley the book back, who took it. “They're practically extinct. Which would explain why we haven't seen them around here before.”

“But they're back 'cause...?” Buffy started. This history lesson was all well and good, but if these guys were going to be a problem, she needed know about the now.

“I haven't the foggiest.” Giles admitted. “It's surprising there are any of them to be back at all, after a hundred years without their leader.” He looked to Wesley. “I don't suppose you have any theories?”

“Actually, I do.” Wesley said, his smug tone making an unwelcome reappearance. Putting the book back in the box, he said, “Balthazar, before his death, was said to possess an amulet that gave him great strength. After his death, it ended up in the hands of a wealthy landowner -” He cut himself off, seeing the look on Buffy's face. “Of course, I don't want to bore you with all the details...”

“Too late for that.” Buffy drawled. Giles had earned the right to be a little long-winded. This guy, on the other hand? Not at all.

“...named Gleaves.” Wesley continued, trying – and failing – to give Buffy a 'look'. “The amulet was buried with him in his family's tomb, if memory serves. I believe it may be that that is what the survivors of the cult are looking for. It would be of great sentimental value to them.”

“Just sentimental value? These are vampires we're talking about.” Giles noted. “Sentiment doesn't play much of a role in anything they do.”

“Yes, I'm well aware of that fact, Mr. Giles.” Wesley reproached him. “But the amulet would confer no power at all to anyone but Balthazar, and he, as you mentioned, is quite dead.” He gestured to the book, which was back in the box. “Therefore, sentiment is the only logical explanation as to why they'd be seeking it.”

“If that's why they're here, of course.” Giles pointed out. “Nonetheless,” He added, looking back to Buffy. “It's not an unreasonable theory, and it's the only lead we have at the moment. Barring any other evidence, you should go to the tomb of this Gleaves gentleman later this evening, and recover the amulet.”

“Alright.” Buffy said, nodding. As she nodded, she heard the doors to the library open, and someone walk in.

“Yo, G, Amy said you needed me for something?” Faith said, twirling a stake in one hand for no apparent reason.

Wesley looked at the new arrival. “This is perhaps Faith?”

Faith looked at him, going back a half-step and raising her eyebrow in distaste. “Who are you supposed to be, my new Watcher?”

“Faith, meet Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley, Faith.” Giles said, reaching up to rub his right temple for a moment. “And yes; the Council, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to assign him as your new Watcher.”

“There's no need to be snide, Mr. Giles.” Wesley countered, defensively. “I'm well aware that you don't like me, but we  ** _are_**  all on the same side here.”

Faith scoffed. “I'd rather not have you on my side. You're supposed to be my Watcher?” She shook her head. “Screw that.” She turned and walked out.

“Faith!” Wesley tried to call after her in an attempt at a stern tone. He failed. Faith just walked out of the library, ignoring her nominal Watcher.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Wesley, Giles looked to Buffy. “Would you-?” he started.

“I'll see if I can get her back.” Buffy agreed, reluctantly. She looked over to Wesley, “Don't say anything terribly interesting while I'm gone.” She left the room. Wesley started to walk over to his books and took off his glasses, preparing to clean them, while at the same time, Giles began to do the exact same thing. The older Watcher stopped himself as he saw that Wesley was performing the same motion and got his glasses back on, before Wesley turned.

“She'll get used to me, I'm sure.” Wesley said with confidence, looking at the door.

“I rather doubt it.” Giles replied coolly. “If you want to make any progress in getting that girl to listen to you, I suspect you're going to have to change your behavior.”

“What do you mean?” 

Giles just smirked and looked away. “Forget everything that's in the Handbook, for a start.”

**February 10th, 1999  
1420 Truman Drive, Sunnydale**

With Faith still out on patrol with Buffy – she'd said something about vampires and swords, but hadn't gone into detail – Amy was in her room, eyes closed as she focused her mind and her magic on the unlit candle in front of her. In terms of flashiness, lighting a candle wouldn't be a major accomplishment. But in terms of what it could mean long-term, it was useful. If she could light the candle using her magic, then she could possibly build on that to eventually conjure fireballs as offensive weapons.

Maybe. But the point was that Sunnydale was a war zone, and she had to make her talents more useful in a fight. Freezing the vampires in place or 'conjuring' up water was all well and good, but as her experience with that demon from the Sisterhood of Jhe showed, that didn't count for all that much. In certain circumstances, with the right preparation and the right components, she could help with chants and rituals and all that, but that wasn't always practical or possible.

Amy vowed that she would never be helpless again, to protect herself and protect her friends, or her family. And that meant she needed to get better at magic that could be used without such preparation, that would be useful in a fight.

Controlling fire enough to light a candle on command was the start of that process.

But just as she was starting, bringing the candle into her mind's eye, her cell phone – a recent gift from her dad – started to ring, completely ruining her focus. Amy looked to the phone, sitting on the nearby bedside table and got up from her position cross-legged on the floor and grabbed the phone as it rang again. The number wasn't one she knew.

“Hello?”

“Hello Miss Madison.” A voice that Amy had been dreading hearing, that had haunted the nightmares of her mother's death – of her  _murdering_  her own mother – night after night. A familiar voice. “Time for that favor I mentioned to be repaid.”

“You!” Amy nearly screamed – her father wasn't home at the moment, so she didn't have to worry about him overhearing anything. “How dare you-” Amy's voice was cut off as she felt her throat tighten and constrict, her vocal cords shut off, pressure clamping on her windpipe.

As Amy gagged, the voice spoke. “Now, I can appreciate that you're upset. I can even appreciate that you'd really prefer not hearing from me. But that's the way such things go, isn't it? A bargain is a bargain, young lady, and you owe me a favor. Besides, wouldn't you like to know more? There's a reason you went to Rack in the first place. I can help you. All you need to do is carry out what you agreed to do.” Amy felt the pressure on her throat vanish.

“I didn't agree to kill my mother with that spell, damn you!”

“Miss Madison, do you really think anything else would have stopped Catherine, once and for all? Was she ever going to stop trying to kill you? Your friends? That Faith girl? Is that what you wanted?” The voice was smooth, cool and almost comforting in tone, a strange mix of helpful paternalism and a not-ineffective used-car-salesman.

“Nonononono, I didn't - no! You don't get to talk your way out it that easily. You didn't tell me -” Amy managed to counter.

“Of course I didn't. Now, perhaps we can move on to talking about that favor you owe me?”

“I'm not doing anything for you!”

“Oh, now, of course you are. Or should I tell your friends the truth about that spell that killed your mother? Is that what you want?”

“N-no.” Amy managed to get out, fear rising up in her again.  _How would they react? How would Faith react?_  She had lied to them, and...would they actually believe she didn't know...

“It's just a small favor I need. There's a book, currently in the possession of your friend Rupert Giles. I need you to...take possession of it, and deliver it to a particular location.”

“I'm not stealing from-!”

“Ah, ah, ah.” The unknown man interrupted, as Amy's voice seized up again. “You aren't in any position to negotiate, I'm afraid. Besides, it's such a small thing. I'm not asking you to kill anyone, am I? Just get the book, and we'll be even. And I'll even help you learn a trick or two, to improve your magic. Everyone gets to be a winner, apart from Mr. Giles I suppose. Again; that doesn't sound too bad, does it?”

**February 11th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Wesley analyzed Balthazar's amulet underneath a jeweler's glass, holding it up to his eye and keeping the trinket close. He moved a little to get the light better, then pulled the amulet and the glass away, offering both to Giles, who took them. “It certainly does seem authentic. There may need to be further tests for us to be completely sure, though.” 

Giles examined the amulet for a moment, before making a sound of agreement. Despite his obnoxious attitude and his obvious uselessness in the field or as a Watcher in general, technically Wesley was incredibly bright. Authenticating occult artifacts was something Giles had little doubt his compatriot could do expertly – same as if there was some obscure translations required.

“Yeah, I think we got bigger problems than if that's the real amulet or not. Your nearly-extinct cult was out in force last night.” Buffy said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice. 

“It's not  _my_  nearly-extinct cult!” Wesley protested, looking to Giles for support. “You read the text, Mr. Giles, same as I did. All the available accounts described El Eliminati as a dispersed and relatively weak group of the undead...”

Giles cleared his throat nervously, looking to an annoyed Buffy and a bored Faith. “Well, uh, he's correct about that. All the available information did suggest that the cult was extinct, o-or nearly so.” Then he looked to Wesley. “However, having said that, this is the Hellmouth; and if there's one rule here, it's that things usually don't behave as they're supposed to. If there's anywhere for a dead cult to have more forces than it should, it's here.”

“Still, I can hardly be blamed for-” Wesley protested further.

“For heaven's sake, man, quit while you're barely managing to tread water! Giles advised. He looked back to Buffy. “Well, obviously, this changes things; and frankly, I'm inclined to suspect that reports of Balthazar's death may be greatly exaggerated – or possibly that his amulet figures in some sort of plan to resurrect or revive him.”

“That's preposterous!” Wesley protested for the third time in as many minutes. “Mr. Giles, you can't possibly believe that.”

“I'll make sure Angel gets the amulet.” Buffy said, ignoring the protest. The bell rang, and she frowned. “And great, now it's time for that Chem test.” She headed for the door – and Faith left as well, despite an indignant 'Faith!', from Wesley.

**February 11th, 1999  
Chem Lab, Sunnydale High**

Xander resisted the urge to tell Buffy to shut up as Mrs. Taggart started passing out the exam booklets, his pencil tapping against the table.  _Okay, so drinking half a dozen energy drinks before taking the test was a bad idea. Better put that onto the list of things to not do again._

Buffy kept gushing about last night's fight with the sword-vamps, “It was intense. It was like I just... let go and became this force. I just didn't care anymore.” 

Willow seemed at least a little more interested in the story – at the moment – but then, she wasn't busy worrying about her grade for this subject. At least she didn't have to panic about it, anyway. “Yeah, I know what that's like.” The redhead agreed with her best friend.

Buffy shook her head. “I don't think you can! It's kind of a Slayer thing. I don't even think I'm explaining it well.” 

_No, you're really not._  Xander sighed to himself, he knew he couldn't blame Buffy too much. Clearly she'd had fun last night, which was something she rarely did on a patrol, except perhaps when she was exceptionally good with her puns. He didn't begrudge her bonding with Faith over Slaying, or even enjoying the Slaying. He just wanted to focus on getting past this damned test.

Cordelia, sitting next to him, seemed even more annoyed by Buffy's story, and actually cut in hissing: “Actually, no, you're not. So stop trying!” 

Buffy looked at the cheerleader with a less than happy expression on her face, and then shifted her look to Xander when he looked to be in total agreement with his girlfriend. Then Mrs. Taggart came by and handed the four of them their test booklets. Then the teacher went to the front of the class and did her usual pre-test announcement.

Cordelia shifted in her seat, not paying much attention – not that she or anyone else needed to, they'd all heard it before. Xander tuned the teacher out as well, thinking about his girlfriend. 

He knew that Cordelia had been on edge ever since they'd found that IRS letter. It also hadn't taken a genius to realize that his girlfriend was at least partially lying when she'd told him it was a mistake that her father's lawyers were going to sort out soon. He'd gently tried to get Cordelia to open up about it, but her reaction had kept him from trying too hard. If Cordelia didn't want to talk about it, he could respect that; for now. Although, if it kept bothering her like this, Xander knew he might have to push harder.

Xander watched Buffy mime buttoning her mouth shut, and realized she'd been gushing again and told to be quiet by the teacher. Mrs. Taggart announced they had an hour, then left the room.

Buffy immediately started in again, “Okay, so the best part...”

Now, though, even Willow didn't want to keep listening, adding a little reproach to her tone. “Buffy. Test? You know, chemistry. Remember? The thing you didn't come over to study for?”

“Right. Got it.” Buffy replied, turning back to her test. It only took her a minute of not filling any circles in – a minute in which Xander found himself picking – at random – answers for the first three questions, since nothing was occurring to him at all. Though this one here, he was 90% sure he knew the answer to. Maybe? Okay, 75%? Better than nothing. He marked 'C' for question four, and was about to move onto number five when Buffy turned around and interrupted again.

“Sorry. Okay, so we're down there, in the sewers, and Faith got three of them on her at once...” She said, continuing the story as if she hadn't been interrupted several times already.

This time, though, Xander lost it and snapped at her. He appreciated that she was enthused about Slaying, he really did; but good Godfrey Cambridge, couldn't she possibly have better timing? 

“God damn it, Buffy! We got a test to do, okay? I'm highly caffeinated, and I'm trying to concentrate. Some of us actually care about school, you know?!”  _Okay, definitely don't drink that much caffeine before a test, ever again!_  

“What he said.” Cordelia murmured, as more students looked their way. “So get with the program, will you? Or do you want us to fail this damn test?”   

Looking hurt, Buffy finally shut up and stayed quiet and Xander only vaguely paid attention as Faith showed up at the window, he really was trying to concentrate. He couldn't ignore Buffy just up and leaving the class, though. He gaped for a moment, then shook his head violently as the two Slayers walked away from the classroom.

_Test, Xander. Focus on the damn test._  His leg kept shaking against his chair.  _Yep. Definitely too much caffeine._

**February 12th, 1999  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Over the last week, Xander and Cordelia hadn't spent that much time at her house. Part of that was because her father was spending more time at the place. Cordelia had passed it off as just him handling business stuff, and that might well have been true; but in any case, now they were here at her house for the night, both of Cordelia's parents were away. Something he couldn't help noticing.

Xander looked to the empty bowl of popcorn sitting in front of them as they watched the movie, one of his hands gently stroking Cordelia's hair. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, then picked up the bowl with his other hand. “I'm thinking more popcorn. Want some?”

Cordelia reached over to the remote and paused the movie, smirking a little. “I honestly don't know how you can be hungry enough for more! Anyway, no, I'm good. But go make yourself some more, if you want. I'll help you work off the excess pounds later.” She returned the kiss, and Xander got up, making his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

It was true that he wanted some more popcorn, but really, Xander just wanted an opportunity to use the Iron Coin again. Grabbing a bag from the cupboard, he popped it into the microwave and took the coin out of his pocket.

“Buffy Summers.” He flipped it up, and got the expected nothing. “Willow Rosenberg.” And again, nothing. “Cordelia Chase.” Zilch. “Rupert Giles.” Nada. The microwave beeped and Xander poured the popcorn into the bowl. “Jessica Harris.” He'd taken to flipping the coin for his mother, ever since his father's death. Nothing for her – he'd never gotten anything on her with the Iron Coin, oddly enough. “Daniel Osbourne.” Yet again, nothing.

Picking up the popcorn bowl, he started towards the stairs, flipping the coin one last time. “Faith Lehane.”

The vision instantly blasted into his mind, causing Xander to stagger and almost drop the popcorn.

_Buffy and Faith in an alley. A glimpse of a street name, a building with a sign on it. Crates and a dumpster. Vampires, with swords. Lots of them. The two Slayers fighting desperately, outnumbered._

_Buffy grabbing a vampire, tossing it to Faith, who stakes it. They run down the alley, Buffy grabs another...wait, is that a vampire? No game face...oh crap, there's a visible pulse on his neck, he's definitely **not**  a vampire! Faith doesn't hesitate, the stake goes flying into his chest as the truth dawns on Buffy...._

_Blood spreading all over the white suit shirt, as the body falls to the ground._

The image played over and over in his head; the body falling, Faith pulling the stake away, the look on her face after the man failed to explode into dust. The dead man's last horrified look of fear, pure deep, shitting your pants fear as he realized he was about to die. That look was burned into Xander's mind, during that timeless moment.

Xander staggered, the force of what he was seeing making him feel like his head was going to split apart. He knew two things. One, Faith was going to accidentally kill a human being, thinking him a vampire. And two, he had to stop it. How – he didn't know. He didn't even know the 'when' – there had been no indication about what time all that would occur...

Head still swimming, he finally fell to the floor, landing on his ass as the bowl dropped onto the floorboard, spilling popcorn all over the place. Xander managed to hold onto the coin, though, getting it into his pocket moments before Cordelia came down the stairs.

“Xander! Are you-” She started. She must have heard the bowl drop.

“I'll be fine.” Xander started to get to his feet, Cordelia helped him. “I need your car, honey. Keys, right now.” There was no time to waste.

“Xander, what are you talking about? It's 7:30!”

“Cordelia's, please, there's no time!” He grabbed her hand. She wouldn't budge. Xander looked her in the eye, letting her see the sincerity in his words, “We need to get going – now!”

“What are you-” Cordelia spluttered. “Go where – I mean, did someone call?” She hadn't heard a phone ring.

“Cordelia, I don't have time to explain. If you're not going to let me drive, then you drive! This is a matter of life and death!”

**February 12th, 1999  
Alley, Sunnydale**

Cordelia, having broken at least three traffic laws in the rush to get to where Xander had insisted they needed to go, was not in a good mood. Xander had more or less brushed off her questions...but she knew her boyfriend. This wasn't some prank, he wasn't shitting her, but what the hell was going on?

Xander was opening the door and running out of the car, even before it had come to a full stop. Cordelia moved as quickly as she could, watching Xander run down the alley –

Faith and Buff were alone in the alley, when an arm reached out and grabbed Buffy by the shoulder. Instantly, she grabbed the man and threw him against a dumpster. Faith jumped right in, driving her stake into the vampire wearing a suit and – no dust.

Just a body collapsing onto the ground, and the horrified expressions of two teenage girls.

Xander just stood there, knowing he'd failed. Even with the Iron Coin, he'd been too late to stop it. The male teen felt numb as everything he'd foreseen happened, all over again, in the full Technicolor of real life.


	16. Episode 15: Death of a Boring Man

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own BtVS. I own the Iron Coin, the Jester, et cetera. Insofar as someone can 'own' a fanfic itself (as in, people not copying it/using it/etc. without permission on this site and others, pursuant to various plagiarism rules), I own this fic. The rest? Well, it ain't mine. So there. 

Thanks, as ever, to Starway Man, my beta. If you haven't read any of his work, you should go pick a story and read it. I would suggest 'Knightcurse', 'Never Wish Upon a Hellmouth', 'A Simple Twist of Fate', 'The Guardian' or 'Time for Change' as ones to start with. 

Anyway, as usual, comments, writing updates, et cetera, can be occasionally found on my tumblr at Alkenifanfiction . Tumblr . Com

In this particular case, I will say that if you're concerned about my characterization of Faith here – thinking it a little out of character or something – then on that tumblr, I have a bit an elaboration on how Faith has gotten here, on how things have gone the way they have in the fic to the point where her reactions are different from what we saw on the show. Your mileage may vary with my explanation, granted, but at least you'll be able to understand where I'm coming from, if you're interested. I try my best to keep everyone in my fanfics in character to the shows and to the circumstances the fic itself puts them through. If you really think I've gone total left field here, tell me. I may not, in the end, agree with you, but I do try to make everything fit together.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 15: Death of A Boring Man

**February 12th, 1999  
Alley, Sunnydale**

_Toolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolatetoolate..._

The two words played over and over in Xander's mind, chasing out every other thought he might have had at this moment. Only two words, and an overriding sense of horror.

He'd seen death before – this was Sunnydale, after all. But never before had there been a death that he – he, alone, rather than a Slayer or a witch or whoever – could have prevented, if only he'd moved faster...done it right.

It was his fault. He'd gotten lazy with the Iron Coin lately. Taken it for granted, started assuming that it wasn't showing him anything anymore. If he'd just used it sooner...

As Xander looked on, not really seeing what was happening, Buffy was crouched down by the wounded guy. Faith was standing still, doing nothing, just...staring at the body, as if still expecting it to turn to dust. Buffy was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. 

It was Buffy's command to the man 'Don't move!', as his body convulsed through what had to be death throes – there was no way in hell the victim could survive a wound like that, Xander's pseudo-soldier memory bank was sure of that. Besides, the Iron Coin had...the wound  ** _had_**  to mortal, if he'd foreseen it that way...no, the guy wouldn't survive, not with that sort of injury. Regardless, it was Buffy's words to the dying man that drew Xander back to what was happening, just in time to hear Faith's toneless denials.

“I didn't...I didn't know. I didn't know....”

“We need to call 911, now!” Buffy said to no one in particular. 

_Yeah, I know!_  Cordelia, fighting back her own reaction of horror and fear, had her phone out immediately after Buffy declared the necessity, pushing buttons on the cellular device. She then began speaking to the 911 operator, her voice low, almost inaudible in the background.

Faith just kept standing there, doing nothing, unable to avert her gaze. 

“I need something - something to stop the blood!” Xander automatically started towards Buffy and the dying man as she said that, but it was too late. He knew it. And then so did everyone else.

With one more round of convulsions, blood trickling out of his mouth, the body went limp, head lolling forward a little. The dead man was caught reaching towards Buffy, his arm falling down by his side, having not reached its destination. 

_Oh, dear God..._  Buffy stepped back, standing back up, feeling horror equivalent to Xander's, guilt overriding her...she'd grabbed the guy, thrown him against the wall, and then thrown him to Faith...how could she have missed it? Whoever he was, this guy didn't even  ** _look_**  like a vampire, plus in the heat of the moment Buffy had failed to register that he was warmer than a vampire, human warm...he didn't react like...he wasn't dressed like any of the other vampires they'd been fighting...

God damn it. She'd only realized it at the last moment, when she yelled to Faith...too late.

Frozen in place, Buffy stared at the body as Faith finally reacted. “We gotta go!” She reached for Buffy, grabbing the other Slayer's wrist.

“Are you nuts? We can't just leave this guy here!” Cordelia insisted, having disconnected from her 911 emergency call by now. “Someone's dead! We have to-”

“And there are more vampires around here,” Faith shot back. “There isn't time-”

“The body's right here.” Xander pointed out, the whole thing feeling surreal to him...he suspected that he was still in shock. “This is the perfect-” 

A vampire garbed in the antiquated uniform of the El Eliminati cult chose that moment to drop down from the nearby roof, right between Xander and Faith, facing the ordinary human, snarling and lunging at him. Before it could do anything more than that, though, a stake sprouted from its chest. There was a momentary glimpse of a skeleton and loud hissing sound, followed by the vamp collapsing to dust. Faith standing there, pulling her stake back. 

“Okay, I think we can go now.” Xander acquiesced to Faith's suggestion, speaking way faster than normal.

Buffy backed away, calming herself down from the battle shock arising from the unknown man's death, and without a word the two Slayers started to head down the alley, the same direction they'd been heading before.

“No, wait! Come on, my car's this way!” Cordelia said hurriedly. Someone was dead, vampires were around, and with Sunnydale luck, the cops would be here any moment, when they  _really_   **weren't**  needed. Just to screw things up  even worse. There wasn't time for anyone to worry about it, or think about it...that was life on the Hellmouth for you. But Cordelia knew that this would become a nightmare later. For all four of them.

The Chosen Two followed Xander and Cordelia back out of the alley, to the car still waiting for them, getting in quickly, taking all the seats available. The Slayers automatically headed for the back seat, leaving Xander and Cordy the seats in the front of the car. Cordelia thought to herself,  _This had better not turn into a habit. I'm not running some sort of Slayer Express here._  Part of her couldn't grasp just how she could be thinking like that at a time like this...the thought felt familiar, and normal. 

Cordelia Chase knew that normality was worth a lot at a time like this, as she started up the car and drove off just under the speed limit.

“Giles. We need to talk to Giles.” Buffy said, with sudden certitude. “He'll know what to do.”

“Like what? Dump the body somewhere? Like in an empty grave? Is that what you were thinking?” Xander replied, biting back the sarcasm that was naturally entering into his tone. This most definitely wasn't the time.

Luckily, the sound of police sirens howling a short distance away as the Chase-mobile kept going interrupted any sort of response to Xander's questions. And if Harris had been able to calm down enough to think calmly and rationally, he would have been  ** _amazed_**  that Cordelia's 911 call had been answered so swiftly and efficiently, even though the cheerleader had been smart enough not to use her own name during the rushed explanation to the operator.

Well, whatever. Watery blood over the bridge now. Plus a body dump wasn't in the cards, it seemed.

“They don't notice any of the crap that happens around here at night, except the one time it would be really nice for them not to.” Cordelia muttered, driving through a green light. They were almost to the high school. “Well, that's just typical...”

**February 12th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Giles!” Buffy rushed into the library first. It was oddly empty of people as they entered. No sign of Giles, or even the other guy, Wesley. No real sign of a struggle, either...nothing. They just weren't around. No one was.

“Where the hell - not even that stupid new guy is here?!” Faith nearly yelled.  _I killed that guy...I killed him...it wasn't...I didn't know...why was he there? Why did he walk into the middle of-_

Faith abruptly cut her thoughts off. Excuses didn't cut it. She had killed someone. Some innocent guy, just some random human. Want, take, have...that was just fine. She was a Slayer – she was entitled...but killing people? No...that wasn't cool. She saw judgment in the eyes of the others, knew it had to be there. Like she was a murderer...no...no, God damn it...it was an  _accident_...it wasn't her fault...she wasn't some evil monster....she couldn't be.

“New guy?” Cordelia turned to Xander, who seemed to be taking this all pretty hard too. The real question she wanted to ask...well,  ** _demand_** , was how the hell he'd known all this was going to happen earlier tonight, even down to the when and where...but Cordelia knew she couldn't ask her boyfriend that question. Not now. Not here. So not the time or place. 

“New Watcher. He's supposed to be Faith's Watcher. Real pansy-ass guy called Wesley something or other, Windy-price tag? I forget.” Xander said hurriedly. “Bet he bravely boldly ran away.”

“Is this really the time for Monty Python!?” Cordelia hissed at him.

“Cordy, at this point, any time is a good time for Monty Python. It's either that, or completely fucking panic and go nuts. And I don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like the best option to me!” Xander snapped at her. He immediately regretted it – his tone, his words – but...

“Taking this seriously isn't going to kill you, Xander!” Cordelia shot back. “More's the pity-” She was interrupted from saying anything more, though, when the double doors to the library banged opened again, and Angel burst in.

“Buffy! I've been looking for you-” He saw the blood on the blonde's hand, and the smattering of blood on Faith's shirt, and the ensouled vampire stopped short. Angel could instantly tell from the smell that the blood was not their own. “What the-”

“It's not ours.” Buffy said unnecessarily, as if Angel couldn't tell if they were bleeding or if the blood was theirs. “What is it?”

“I was on the street, looking for you-” Angel abruptly cut himself off again. “What happened to you? And Faith?”

“We got attacked. Lost track of time. And then...” Buffy's voice trailed off...no one else seemed willing to volunteer what had happened. The death. Her eyes flicked over to Xander a moment, and her brain made an intuitive leap. He'd shown up there...he'd known about it...he'd tried to stop it...he'd  _ **known**_  it was going to happen...or that something was going to happen, at any rate...and he  ** _hadn't warned her!_**

_What the hell is going on with him?_

“Never mind, we gotta focus. El Eliminati and their boss, Balthazar? They've taken Giles prisoner.” 

Luckily, that was all Angel needed to say. Both Slayers were instantly ready. Buffy turned to Xander and Cordelia and commanded them, “Wait here. There's going to be a lot more of them there than what were present in that alley!” She turned back to Angel. “Was it just Giles?”

Angel shook his head. “No, there was another guy. Looked like that Wesley person you introduced me to at the Bronze, earlier on.” He looked at the Chosen Two in some concern. “We gotta go. But are you two sure you're up for this?”

Buffy nodded and the two Slayers followed him out of the library. Even though Faith and Buffy both still, in their minds, were trying to cope with the death of that guy in the alley, each trying to accept their role in it. But there was something immediate that had to be handled. Giles had to be saved.

Not for the first time, almost despite herself, given the situation, Faith wondering who the hell she'd pissed off to get shafted so much in the Watcher department...whereas Buffy had Giles. Because he was Buffy's Watcher before he was anything to her. Just the way things were. The way things sucked, always sucked...

In her mind's eye, she saw herself thrusting the stake into the dead man's chest in that dark alley...

_I'm not a murderer! It wasn't my fault! Not really..._

**February 13th, 1999  
Faith's Apartment Building, Sunnydale**

Balthazar was dead, for whatever that was worth. Dead after giving them that cryptic, stupid warning with his dying breath. Assuming he hadn't just been trying to psych them out with those last words of his, something even worse was coming...always a bigger demon.  _Well, maybe not bigger than him, but more powerful anyway._

That looming problem – if it really existed – didn't change a much bigger problem at hand, though. What they'd done...the man they'd killed, he had to have been found by the police – if not yet, he would be soon. That...that wasn't good.

Buffy was still trying to grapple with it all, and with Balthazar dead, the things stopping her from doing so had now more or less vanished.

It was already the next day, for all that it was still dark out when they reached the new building Faith was living in, since Giles had seen to it she got set up somewhere better than that roach motel she'd been staying at after she'd first showed up in Sunnydale.

“Faith.” Buffy said, before the other Slayer could walk through the front doors of her building. “Wait.” The dark-haired Chosen One turned around and waited for Buffy to speak, not saying anything. “We need to talk...about...”

“What's there to talk about, B? He's dead, and talking about it isn't going to bring him back. Talking isn't going to get it out of my head, and it's not going to get his blood off my shirt, or off your hand,” Faith gestured to Buffy's hand. “So what's there to talk about? He's dead. End of story.”

“No! It's not that simple, Faith! Killing someone is - it's a-” Buffy started, looking confused and desperate.

“You don't think I know that?” Faith interrupted, snapping. “I'm not an idiot, Buffy, and I'm not a monster. I'm not a murderer! It was an accident! For the both of us – you threw him to me, I killed him. What? Your hands aren't all clean and shiny, either!”

“I didn't say they were!” Buffy replied, raising her voice, reacting to Faith's angry rant before trying to calm down. “Look, if the police haven't found the body already, they will soon. And...accident or otherwise, we – both of us played our part – we killed him...we both screwed up.”

“Yeah, we did. You did, I did!” Faith replied, stepping towards her, half-lunging before pulling herself short. “But I'm the one who plunged in the stake in, remember?  _I_  killed him...but I was doing my job...I...” She cut herself off. “There's nothing to talk about. Not for me, anyway. So this is the last time we're having this conversation, okay?” 

“Faith. Have you forgotten? Xander and Cordelia were there.” Buffy said softly, causing Faith to look at her sharply. “They were  ** _there_** , Faith. They saw what happened. If you were thinking that you could just pretend it never happened, pretty sure that's not an option. For either of us.”

Faith turned back to the front doors of the building, opening one and pausing as she started to pass through. “You're right. Those two were there, and they saw how it went down. But far as I'm concerned, there's nothing more to say. Pretty damn sure they're not gonna rat us out to the cops, right? Fine. So you talk to 'em if you want, make sure they keep their mouths shut; they're your friends, after all.”

“Faith.” Buffy said before the other Slayer started to move again. “You don't have to – you have friends, too. Don't forget that, okay? Just...don't.” 

Faith didn't say anything in response. She just walked in through the door, letting it close behind her. Leaving Buffy all alone in the dark Sunnydale night.

_Damn you, Xander, why didn't you **warn**  us this would happen!?_ the blonde Slayer suddenly thought furiously to herself, returning to a train of thought she had all but forgotten earlier that night.

**February 13th, 1999  
1420 Truman Drive, Sunnydale**

Nightmares. What distinguishes a nightmare from a dream? Is it a nightmare if it's not remembered after waking up? Everyone dreams, but dreams are not always recalled. If not recalled, can the most horrifying of dreams really be called a nightmare?

They were the questions that no one at this moment would ever wonder about, as the sound of a ringing cell phone woke up Amy Madison.

Eyes still half-closed, Amy reached for her phone, her groping hand missing it a few times. The young woman suddenly knocked her alarm clock off the side table, wincing just a touch as the heavy thud assaulted her tired ears. After a moment, she found the phone. She was too tired to worry, even as a tiny, half-awake part of her brain feared what she often feared when that phone rang, for the last couple of days.

That voice. That damned voice, with more threats and demands, the fear of it, rising in her throat with every phone call.

Tonight...or better to say perhaps this morning, as Amy saw the time on the phone, that worry was drowned out by tiredness. But it was only when she saw that the number was Faith's that that tiny part of her brain silenced its fears. Snapping open the phone, the witch brought it to the side of her head.

“Faith...? How late were you out patrolling-” Amy started to say. She'd only gotten one call from Faith this late before, after the other girl had been out patrolling and had lost track of just how late it was, given how amped she'd been after killing a few vampires and just generally getting mixed up in a fight. The Slayer liked that.

“Amy...ah, shit. I know...I know I probably woke you up.” Faith's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, in its own way, even though...it really wasn't. But it was quiet, almost small, just a touch. “I...”  
“Faith,” Amy interrupted her friend. “What's wrong?”

“I shouldn't...you wouldn't...it's not...” Faith kept trailing off...if it was someone else, Amy would be envisioning her biting her lip nervously...but this was Faith. Nervousness and Faith didn't go together.

“Faith.” Amy said again, her voice slightly louder and more firm as she grew more awake. “You called me for a reason. It's the middle of the night.  _What happened?_ ” Faith's evasion was starting to worry her...

“I...I killed someone, Amy...” Faith said after a moment's silence, voice slow.

“ _ **What?!**_ ” To say that the Madison girl was shocked by those words...spit-take pretty much covered Amy's emotions at that moment, though she didn't actually spit. It was a close thing on that front, though. Faith was silent, throughout. 

After a moment, Amy realized just how violently she'd spoken in her reaction. This was Faith talking. She didn't just walk up to some guy and kill him. She wouldn't be calling her about that. “Faith...talk to me, please. What happened, exactly?”

“He just...B and I...we were fighting this pack of vampires – loads of them – and then...he just...he was there, and then I staked him...right in the heart...I saw him bleeding out...I killed him, Amy...I didn't mean to...he was just...it was an accident... _I killed someone!_ ” Faith's voice rose to an almost fever pitch with those last two words. “I'm not a monster Amy. I'm not a murderer! I just- I killed-”

Amy was wide awake now, all thoughts of sleep banished from her mind. “Faith, calm down.” She interrupted her friend. “Stay there. Don't do anything. I'm on my way to your apartment.”

“Amy, it's the middle of the freaking night-” Faith protested. Vampires, and all that shit would still be out and about. If Amy got hurt because- God, she wouldn't, couldn't....her fault too...

“Faith, I'm not going to just leave you alone right now.” Amy insisted, already opening dresser drawers. “I'll be careful, don't worry. Just hold on, I'm on my way.” She said again. She hung up before Faith would have a chance to protest more or tell her not to come.

**February 13th, 1999  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Xander and Cordelia had eventually left the library after Faith and Buffy had departed with Angel to save Giles and Wesley. There wasn't anything for them to do there, after all. They'd returned to her place, both of them not entirely with it, not after everything that had happened. They were still sitting on the couch, like they had earlier in the evening, though now there was no movie playing on the idiot box. They'd both tried to distract themselves, not think about what had happened. Even as Cordelia had burned to demand answers from her boyfriend.

But with the movie done and back in its case some ten minutes ago, Xander knew that Cordelia's questions weren't going to be held back for much longer. She was going to let loose on him any minute. She wouldn't be Cordelia Chase otherwise. And he had no freaking clue what the hell he was going to tell her. Some variation on what he'd told Giles, on what Buffy knew...but damn it all....would she look at him with that half-suspicious expression that Buffy had constantly sent him for a while? It had been hard enough getting it from her, and he'd gotten it from Giles – still did, a bit – but getting it from Cordy? Xander didn't know if he could handle that.

And what if she reacted worse? What if she decided they needed to break up or something? It wasn't impossible, all things considered. There were so...so many ways Cordelia could react badly...so much worse than Giles and Buffy had.

Xander already knew he couldn't just lie to her. Leaving aside that he was pretty sure she'd be able to tell if he tried, it was just pointless. Not to mention a relationship-breaker. The truth was insane and unbelievable enough as it was. No point in lying about it.

“Kinda weird how, right now, I'm sorta expecting smoke to start coming out of your ears.” Cordelia said with a soft laugh.

Xander looked over to her. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes and poked him in the side. “You've got that look you always get when you're thinking too hard.” She dropped into a more serious tone, knowing full well what it was he was thinking too hard about. “Xander, you know what I want to ask you.” It wasn't a question.

“I do, but you haven't asked since we got back here. Kinda hoping we could keep up the trend.” Xander replied, rolling his head back and to the side as he spoke.

“Xander, I can't just – damn it. Screw this, how did you know? What did you know? What the  ** _hell_**  happened?”

“I can't tell you.”

Cordelia stood up from the couch, stepping back from it in one fluid motion with the standing. “What?  _Why?_  Is it some kind of Slayage secret that I'm not allowed in on? Because it looked to me like  ** _Buffy_**  didn't seem all that surprised to see you there. So she obviously has some kind of idea what's going on!”

Xander stood up as well, looking directly at her. “Cordelia, I love you. You know that right?” 

“Sure, and I love you too. But what's that got to do with anything right now?” 

“It's got everything to do with it.” He took a breath. “Please, listen to me; and please,  _believe me_. Sweetheart, this has nothing to do with not wanting to tell you the big secret, or keeping someone's confidence, or whatever. It has everything to do with the fact that I literally cannot tell you. If I tried, my voice would just go-”

Suddenly he was overcome with a fit of coughing. Hand on his chest, just below his throat, Harris staggered back a moment, almost hacking up a furball.  _Well, that's a new one. Mixing it up, mister Hydra guy?_  Cordelia moved towards him in concern as he half doubled-over, but Xander held up one finger from his other hand. After a moment, he straightened back up as the coughing fit vanished. “I can't tell you it all. I can tell you some of it. If I can.”

Cordelia just stared at him. “What the hell does that even mean, you can if you can?”

“It means, it's not up to  _me_. I didn't just start-” Another coughing fit.  _Okay, sick sense of humor._ Not that he didn't know that already. Xander held up a finger again, then straightened back up once more.

“I'm detecting a pattern.” Cordelia said softly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you're not faking the coughing.”

Xander looked her in the eye. “I'm not faking the coughing.”

“Okay.” Cordelia replied, just as softly as before. She sat down on the couch and pulled him by his wrist back onto it. “Okay.” She said again. “You're obviously involved in some lameass weirdness. Fine. Not even that unusual. You can't tell me everything; if you try...what? You'll start coughing up blood? Again, fine, I don't want you to get hurt just to satisfy my curiosity...” 

“Cordelia, you are a true goddess amongst women. You know that, right?” Xander looked at her in semi-wonder.

“Well, duh!” Cordy briefly unleashed her classic megawatt smile, before getting serious again. “Okay. What can you tell me, then? Is this – by Sunnydale standards, just how...weird is the truth, even what you can't tell me?”

“Oh, honey, this breaks all known Sunnydale standards and then some. This is so far beyond our usual Sunnyhell crap, it leaves it all behind in its dust.” Xander replied. He reached over to her and took her hand in his. “Without going into the specifics, I...I find out things...things about what's going to happen. I'm not seeing the future, or anything like that. I...I just...I just find things out. In a way I can't explain to you, no matter how much I  ** _want_**  to. Some things...only certain kinds of things. Things like what happened tonight. I don't...I don't have much in the way of...of control, when I find out these things. I just...I just find them out.”

“How? I mean, like...do you see what's  _going_  to happen?” Cordelia held onto Xander's hand tightly.

Xander opened his mouth, and immediately began to choke. Concerned, Cordelia was about to start pounding on his back or give him the Heimlich maneuver, but he waved her away a moment later. “See? Can't answer that. I want to...but I can't.” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

Xander hesitated. Finally he said, “Since last summer. Eleventh of July, to be precise.”

Cordelia's eyes almost bulged out of her head. “ _You've been keeping something like **this**  a secret from me for  **that**  long!?_” 

“I know, but Cordy, I couldn't tell you. I just couldn't. Not in any way that would satisfy you, anyway. You gotta believe me, okay? And before you ask why I kept my trap shut about it, that expression I'm seeing on your face right now? That's the real reason right there.” Ignoring Cordy's open-mouthed expression, he went on. “Cor, you gotta understand - what I find out may not happen...if I can stop it, or change it, or something else happens as a consequence of other people's actions. But I couldn't stop what happened tonight...” His voice trailed off slowly. “I couldn't stop it. I was too late. And the worst part is, I could have found out sooner...but I didn't.”

Cordelia shook her head. She still found it impossible to process what she's just learned, but after nearly two years of dealing with Sunnydale weirdness, the former May Queen was able to...prioritize. “Xander, whatever the hell this is – and don't even  **think**  I'm satisfied with your half-assed explanation, even if it's all I'm going to get out of you – beating yourself up over that guy's death isn't going to get you or anyone else anywhere. Faith is the one who killed him, and Buffy is the one who threw him into her path. That's all there is to it, whether you had some kinda advance warning about it or otherwise.”

“So...does that mean you don't want to break up with me, for not telling you about all this before now?” Xander asked hopefully.

“Are you nuts?” Cordelia snapped in annoyance, giving him a swift dope-slap across the back of his head. “After all the time and effort I've invested in 'us' over the past year or so, you thought I'd dump you? Just like that? Plus it's Valentine's Day tomorrow, and I am  **so**  not going to repeat what happened between us last year! Sheesh. It's a good thing for you that we're both still kinda traumatized from watching that guy die, mister, or your ass would be  _toast_  for even suggesting that!!”  

Xander felt the weight of the world abruptly fall away from his shoulders. He sighed in relief. “So we're okay, then, right?”

“ _Okay?_  Are you out of your tiny, misbegotten little mind?” Cordelia snapped at him in annoyance. “Alexander LaVelle Harris, you are so deep in the doghouse right now, I can't even  _think_  of a proper way to express it! No, wait, here's one; No. Sex. Comprende? You're completely cut off, for like a  **month**. At least!!”

_Ah, man. This is gonna suck._  Xander had utterly no doubts about that. And oddly enough, he never noticed (and neither did Cordelia) that the change in topic had at least distracted them from what had happened in that dark alley, earlier on. 

_Time to start spending that road trip money I've been saving up, and shower my girlfriend with lots and lots of gifts. Sooner the better, too._

**February 13th, 1999  
Sunnydale High Library**

_Honestly, why does the teacher even have these stupid book checks? Its not like he's ever given us homework from them._  Cordelia grumbled to herself as she headed toward the library, for once actually intending to use it for its official purpose.

She was not in a good mood this morning. Hadn't been, ever since her dejected and miserable boyfriend had left her house after being told that their physical relationship was on hold until further notice. The cheerleader had known, from the looks she'd gotten in the quad earlier today, that everyone now knew that she and the dork were having problems. She even knew that there were bets being taken that she was going to dump Xander tomorrow as well, at the Bronze. Just like last time. Talk about another Valentine's Day disaster.

_It's all Harmony's fault, that gossipy little bitch. And that varsity quarterback she's dating right now._  Cordelia frowned, thinking that she'd have to do some damage control later at lunch. Hand-holding, at the very least. Possibly making out with her significant other too.  _God, I can't wait 'til Graduation, and then I can be **done**  with all this high school crap!_

“I think the Slayers should look into this, Mr. Giles.” Cordelia heard a male, British-accented voice say from near the desk as she entered the library, and then she saw the owner of the voice. Could only be that other Watcher, Wesley. Not exactly terrible on the eyes, but puh-lease; the suit was just a tad ridiculous. She shrugged mentally as the two Watchers began arguing.

“Why? There's no indication that there, there, there was anything supernatural a-about this murder, for heaven's sake. Buffy and Faith have better things to do than, than follow up your inane hunches. Sunnydale does have normal crime, you know, a-and the local demons and vampires have never gone after public figures before.” Giles said from the door to his office.

“A Watcher should trust their instincts, Mr. Giles.” Wesley countered reproachfully. 

Giles didn't seem bothered by the tone. “I  **am**  trusting my instincts. And given the, uh, the events of last night, I-I-I don't see any particular reason to trust yours, Captain Courageous.” Cordelia could have heard the last two words out of some toneless voice synthesizer and still gotten whiplash from the sarcasm.

Whatever, she had textbooks to get. She walked over to the desk, attracting the attention of the two Englishmen. “Don't let me interrupt. Actually, wait, let me interrupt. I'm in a hurry.”

Giles let out a sigh of relief and turned to face Cordelia. “What do you need?”

“Psych class. Freud and Jung. Book me?” 

Giles nodded and went over to one of the shelves behind the desk. Waiting impatiently, Cordelia noticed the other guy, Wesley, staring at her, mouth open just a bit. “So you're like Giles the Next Generation, right?”  _Okay, I've been spending too much time around Xander if I'm gonna make **that**  joke. Arrgh! Someone shoot me, I'm like infected with nerd cooties!_

After witnessing Wesley's excellent impersonation of a fish out of water, Cordelia shook her head and looked away from him as Giles returned with her textbooks. “Thanks.” She told him and headed for the door, hearing Wesley ask a question as she left.

“Who is-”

Giles interrupted with the answer and then some, which Cordelia also caught, the door closing behind her. “That's Cordelia Chase. She's a student here, and she has a boyfriend.” 

_Damn right I do. Even if I am somewhat pissed at him right now._  Cordelia smiled to herself a little, then checked the clock in the hall. Oops. She stepped up the pace a little.

Lunchtime couldn't come fast enough.

**February 13th, 1999  
Faith's Apartment**

“Amy, it's not that simple! I'm not just going to be able to get that blood off my hands. Ever!” 

Amy looked around the wreckage of Faith's apartment – almost everything in it was broken, beaten, dented or destroyed. Faith hadn't slept all night, and Amy...Amy hadn't slept either, trying to help her friend...work through it all. They'd been going around in circles the entire time, and it had been hard to keep everything together.  _At least I'm too tired to actually sleep anymore._

“Faith, I know that. Of course you're not going to. You think  **I'm**  ever going to get my mom's blood off of my hands? I killed her, and that's never going to change. But that's not defining me!” Amy forced herself to ignore that nagging, quiet voice in the back of her head, that was calling her a hopeless liar. “You screwed up...but that's not who you are. You keep saying you're not a murderer, but like you don't believe it yourself. So lemme ask you something; am  **I**  a murderer?”

“Holy shit, Amy, no! She was gonna kill me, you, all of us. That's totally fucking different to what I did!”

Amy took a breath. “Yeah, good point, but killing that guy sorta by accident...and, in the middle of a fight like that? It's not murder. It can't be. It wasn't like, premeditated, right? I mean, I'm not a cop or a lawyer or whatever, but  legally speaking that's just, what, manslaughter. Isn't it?”

“I'm not talking about the fuckin' law, Amy!” Faith's voice dropped, and she nearly fell onto the somewhat tattered couch – it hadn't been very good quality when she'd gotten it, and the last several hours hadn't been any more kind to it than the rest of the apartment. “I'm talking about...like...morality and shit.”

“Yeah, I know. Like I said, Faith, you screwed up. But how many people have you saved, with all the vampires and demons you've killed? It doesn't excuse what happened...but you're still one of the good guys...” Amy sighed after a moment. “But if the cops were really as close as you say they were, from the sirens...that's kind of a big deal too, like it or not. What if they find out you did it?”

“Then I'm in prison for the rest of my life, or leaving the country, or whatever.” Faith said bitingly. “Yeah, sounds like fun to me.” She stood up from the couch, rolling her eyes.

“Faith, you need to talk to Giles. If he could help me, with...I mean, there has to be something he can do to help you.” Amy grabbed Faith's wrist, trying to reassure her.

“How? We can't just get rid of that body now. The fucking cops have to have it already. If they figure out it was me...I'm...there's no way to-” Faith started to shake Amy's hand off her wrist, then thought better of it, though Amy let her hand fall anyway.

The witch said simply, “The only way you're going to find out is by talking to him.”

**February 13th, 1999  
Empty Classroom, Sunnydale High**

“So, what, are you going to rat me out to the Watchers?” Faith said softly. “Is that it?” Despite Giles arguing against it, her prissy new Watcher had 'ordered' her to investigate the death of the guy she'd killed...Deputy Mayor Alan Finch.

Knowing his name didn't help. It just...it made her feel worse.

“No. And neither will Xander and Cordy, you know that. I spoke to them at lunch, and it was pretty darn clear they didn't even want to think about what they saw happen last night. But damn it, Faith, you can't just go and investigate that guy's death, when you already know what happened! Please. We have to tell Giles what really went down last night, what we did!” Buffy didn't seem to handling it all that easier than she was; Faith could tell, from her face, her tone...

“Yeah, what  ** _we_**  did. Both of us. We both screwed up. Me did a lot more than you, I know... Alright, fine. Screw it, B, I know we need to tell him. We...I don't know. Look, what say we just go through the motions at City Hall in case Princess Charles decides to ask questions? We check out the guy's office...then we tell Jeeves when we're done. I'll tell him...” Faith's voice trailed off. Then she looked at Buffy more squarely. “Even if I still don't want to 'talk' about it.”

**February 13th, 1999  
Deputy Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

“Mr. Trick, gather as many of your boys and girls as you'll need. I want whoever did this to be taken care of. Immediately.” 

Faith could almost feel her breath cut short as Trick and the Mayor of Sunnydale, Wilkins or whatever his name was, walked by the door both she and Buffy were pressed against.

“Yeah, I figured you'll be wanting to turn up the heat after we got the autopsy results back.” Trick replied. “So. You want the Slayer who staked my dearly departed colleague arrested, or -”

“No. Not at all. Whichever one did it...I want them dead. If it's the Lehane girl, you can have the pleasure of ending her. On the other hand, Spike can do it if it's Miss Summers. There's an old enmity there, after all.” There was no joviality in the Mayor's tone. Evil or not...maybe this guy had actually  _cared_  about Finch...boring, well-ordered, pencils all the same size Alan Finch.

A part of her, a part of her mind that told her should dismiss all this...ignore it...it was now focused on the fact that the guy who was so dull, boring...who she had semi-accidentally staked in the heart...was in fact no innocent. If that monster Trick had called him a 'colleague', who the fuck knew what the Deputy Mayor  was really mixed up with?  _Holy shit, I actually might have done the world a favor._ Faith wasn't listening to that part of her mind, but she heard it. She watched as Buffy did a double take, then saw the other Slayer mouth 'Spike?'

The sound of the pair's footsteps passed, and Faith nodded. “Kinda makes sense, actually. If Trick's working for a black hat mayor...and he was the one we saw grabbing Billy Idol back then...shit. Hizzoner digs the vamp servants, looks like.”

“We have to tell Giles about this. Wesley too, for that matter.” Buffy said, looking kinda freaked. “If the Mayor really is the guy who's been running things on the supernatural side of the street-” Her voice cut off. “Geez, ya know, I still can't believe he's evil...I mean, I never got a...a bad guy vibe off him...”

“Buffy, ya need to learn that it doesn't matter what kinda vibe you get off someone. Personal experience talkin'. Nine times out of ten, whatever face you see isn't the real them – not all of it.” Despite herself, Faith snorted with laughter for just a moment. “Evil politician isn't exactly a new idea.”  _Lawyer without a soul would be even more...what, cliché? Yeah, even more cliché. Only thing that would._

**February 13th, 1999  
Sunnydale High Library**

“You should have told me right off.” Giles told the two of them, after Buffy and Faith had confessed everything. “Although I can see why you didn't want to tell Wesley.” Fortunately, the other Watcher wasn't in the library just yet. “The idiot would screw it up like everything else.”

“It?” Faith looked up at the British man for the first time since they'd gotten there – she'd spent most of that time just staring at her hands.

“Faith, this i-isn't the first time something like this has, has ever happened.” Giles explained patiently.

“It isn't?” Buffy said from her position in the chair next to Faith's.

“The Slayer is on the front line of a nightly war. Now...it's tragic, but, but accidents do happen. I'm not going to condemn e-either of you, nor am I letting a-anyone just throw you in prison.” Giles answered. “But there are things that must now be done.”

“So...what's that mean?” Faith asked, voice still soft.

“The rules a-are fairly clear – the Council needs to investigate, make sure that it was indeed an accident -” He held up a hand before Faith could protest, continuing, “and then it metes out punishment,  _if_  punishment is, is warranted. They'll provide legal defense as well, if necessary, a-although that's a step the Council rarely likes to take. But I've no intention of inviting a tribunal to Sunnydale, or sending you to England to face one there. Travers still has far too many allies, for one, and I don't think their method of operation would do anything to help in this case -” 

Giles abruptly looked to the door of his office as he heard movement. He stood, “Wesley. That ponce must've heard some of it. Excuse me.” Giles followed after his compatriot, departing the library before the double doors were even closed.

Giles caught up with Wes in an empty office, which he had decided to appropriate for the use of a phone. But just as Wesley finish dialing, Giles slammed his hand down on the hook, hanging it up by force.

“How much of that conversation did you overhear?” Giles asked him, taking the phone from Wesley's hands and placing it back in the cradle.

“I heard enough. And quite frankly, I'm utterly shocked and disappointed in you! You cannot simply not inform the Council-” Wesley straightened his glasses.

“I fully intend to inform the Council – but when and how I think it's warranted. Besides, doesn't protocol state that you should have consulted with me first, instead of going behind my back like this?” 

Wesley stood his ground. “Not under these circumstances! Mr. Travers was right about you, you...how can you not want to report what happened straightaway, after that Faith girl just confessed to committing homicide?” 

“Good God, man, if you heard that much, then you should know what that girl is going through! She's, she's doing far more damage to herself, more usefully in terms of remorse, than-than any tribunal could. You've seen how unruly – by your standards - both of them are, like it or not. Do you honestly think Faith would react well to being before a Council Tribunal?” Giles demanded, not taking a breath as he spoke the whole thing.

Wesley paused, then adopted an almost snooty tone. “Protocol dictates that under these circumstances, the Slayer must be returned to England for investigation and, if necessary, punishment, Mr. Giles.”

Giles stepped back a moment, spreading his arms a little. “For God's sake, Wesley, sod the bloody protocol for five seconds! Now think about what'll happen, i-if things go that far with Faith. She's not - she's not just some weapon that's stopped working properly. That's, she's a young woman who's hurting, beating herself up over what she did. You're her Watcher – your job i-is to help her perform her duty. If you can't do that much, then at least use that brain you're supposed to have and make sure you don't make it  **harder**  for her! That's why I'm forbidding you to call for a tribunal.” He unplugged the phone from the jack, making a mental note to thank Willow for the various technobabbling he'd endured over the last few years.

“You don't have the authority to do that - Faith is my Slayer!” Wesley protested.

“Faith doesn't give a damn what claim you think you have over her, you-you blasted idiot.” Giles shot back, losing his temper. “Neither does Buffy. Are you _trying_  to completely alienate them both? And anything that impacts Faith's ability to fight impacts upon my Slayer, which  _does_  make it my affair. I'm the senior Watcher here, regardless of what Travers thinks about it, and as such, for the moment...my orders to you stand.”

“You could never make that stand up in the Council's forum. Or even before a tribunal.” Wesley replied, retreating into a lawyer's argument as he finally realized just how unsure he was of his authority in this matter. 

“No, probably not. But it would tie things up for weeks. It's not as if there's a, a precedent for all this, w-what with two Slayers at the same time nowadays. And...that's not the point, man.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose a moment, trying to control his frustration. “You say Faith is your Slayer. Well, if you're her Watcher, then start bloody well acting like it. Be on  _her_  side, if you don't want to be treated as the enemy. And the best way to do that is by tossing protocol and the rulebook out the window.”


	17. Episode 16: The Investigation

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related entities. I do own The Iron Coin and the Jester, etc., as they are sever-able from the fandom. No money is being made off of this fanfic, and if Whedon or whoever else owns the rights to BtVS wants to sue me over this, they're welcome to my non-existent money.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 16: The Investigation

**February 14th, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

Mayor Richard Wilkins looked up, as the door to his private office opened. Checking both the time and his appointment calendar, he knew who his visitor was. A flash of anger flared up in him, for actually having to do that – it had been Alan's job to keep his appointments in line, of course, but now that those darned Slayers had killed him...

Luckily, it required little effort on his part for the Mayor to clamp down on his anger. Keeping himself under control was something he had a lot of experience with, over the last century or so.

“Please, Detective Stein. Come in.” Wilkins stood up and gestured for the police detective to enter his office. Once the man was inside, Wilkins gestured for him to close the door, which he did. “Now then, sit.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. Only when Stein was seated did Wilkins sit back down. “You're the one leading the investigation into Alan's death?”

Stein nodded. “I am, Mr. Mayor.” The plain-clothes cop looked around the room, thinking that something was a bit off about the office...but then he figured out what it was. The handful of other times Stein had been in here, to talk to the Mayor about other high-profile cases that had come up, the Deputy Mayor had always been in the room. 

But now Finch was noticeably absent. And the usual plate of confectionery sweets that the Mayor always offered guests wasn't present, either.

_Though, given the circumstances, I'm not really that surprised._ Stein considered to himself. He returned his thoughts to the matter at hand, as Wilkins began to ask questions.

“Have you made any progress? Who killed him? Why would anyone kill him? Alan was a good man, and a close friend.” The Mayor looked across the desk at Stein. “Do you have anything so far?”

Stein nodded. “We have witnesses placing two young women, a Faith Lehane and a Buffy Summers, near the site of Deputy Mayor Finch's death, around the time that he was killed. But there's nothing concrete tying them to the murder.” He sighed. “What's more, they're providing solid alibis for each other, and so far, their stories seem to be holding up.”

“You think one of them is covering for the other, then? Any idea which?”  _And once I find out which one of them did it...._

If the police investigation didn't turn anything up soon, Wilkins had already determined that he would carry out his own inquiry to get the answers he needed. Richard was a man of his word, and just as Alan's grandfather had sworn an oath of loyalty to him on behalf of himself and his descendants, Wilkins had made his own oath to his vassal and to those descendants. They were part of the magical bindings connecting Wilkins and most of the other high offices in Sunnydale, dating all the way back to the day he'd founded the city...

Besides, Alan had been his friend. And no one killed any of his friends and got away with it! It just wasn't seemly.  _Why, people...and not-people...might get the wrong idea that I'm no longer in control of Sunnydale._

Wilkins kept this second flare of anger under control just as he had the first. It was just not good for him to be getting this upset and angry. Just not healthy!

“I think so, Sir.” Stein answered. “But I don't know which one, and I'm hesitant to press the matter too hard – the evidence against them is circumstantial at best, and we run the risk of a lawsuit for harassment if I step over the line that way. I doubt the interrogation room approach is going to accomplish anything, either. I've already filed a couple of search warrants with Judge Palmer that might give us something we can present in court, but if those girls are smart, there won't be anything to be found at either of their homes.” Stein shrugged. “To be honest, sir, I don't thinking charging either of them with the murder will work. At least not without a lot more evidence, or a signed confession.”

“Don't worry. I understand, Detective.” Wilkins replied. “Just make sure that you find out who did it, and that they're brought to justice.”

“Of course Mr. Mayor.” Stein started to stand up. “If I may return to the investigation?”

Wilkins nodded and gestured to the door. “Of course. Keep me updated on your progress.”

“I will, sir.” Stein left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Once Detective Stein had gone, Wilkins stood up and lowered the blinds for all the windows in the room. “All right, you two can come out now.” The door to the side office opened, and Trick and Spike came out. 

“So?” Trick got straight to the heart of the matter.

“As long as which one did it remains in doubt, neither of you are to go after them. Remember that.” Wilkins wagged his finger in their direction.

“You really reckon that berk is gonna figure out which one of 'em killed Finch?” Spike asked sardonically.

“He might, or he might not.” Wilkins said absently. “But appearances have to be maintained, either way.” Richard then went back over to his desk and sat down.

“And if he doesn't?” Trick asked the obvious question.

“I have alternate methods for finding out which of the Slayers killed Alan. Favors I can call in, deals I can make.” Wilkins answered. “Either way, once we find out which one did it, that Slayer dies. In the meantime, I suggest you start rustling up some boys and girls to help you out with that.” Wilkins smiled. “After all, who doesn't want a piece of killing a Slayer?”

“Oy, I don't need any help to kill the bloo-” Spike immediately cut himself off. The last thing he needed was this ponce 'chastising' him for bad language again. “Blonde chit.” He finished. “I've already killed two, I can kill my third easy enough.”

“Way I heard, you spent over half a year trying to kill her, and she beat you every time.” Trick shot back, smirking.

“Like you've had any better luck taking them out? Yeah, I heard about your 'brilliant' Slayer-fest thing, mate.” Spike countered derisively. “Don't even have the balls to go up against them yourself, do you?”

“What can I say? I happen to like staying among the undead.” Trick replied. “Nothing wrong with stacking the deck in my favor, is there?”

“As long as the Slayer who killed Alan ends up dead, I don't care how you two manage it.” Wilkins cut in. “Now, I have another meeting in fifteen minutes which I need to prepare for.”

**February 14th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Instead of being in the cafeteria for lunch, everyone was sitting or standing around the library. Buffy, Faith, Giles, Wesley, Xander, Cordelia, Amy, Oz, and Willow; every member of the gang apart from Angel, as a matter of fact.

“...and that's the state of things, I'm afraid.” Giles said, settling his glasses back on his nose. “If the police can manage to prove that Faith killed the Deputy Mayor, doubtless she'll be charged with murder. And while I'm confident that the Council's legal resources will be able to keep her out of jail, i-it will nonetheless create...complications.”

“What about this tribunal thing you mentioned?” Oz asked, holding Willow's hand. As the only two people left in the group who hadn't known about what had transpired the night before last, they were still coping with the revelation of what Faith had done. Fortunately, neither he nor Willow seemed inclined to shun the brunette Slayer – they were still clearly having some issues with the 'Faith killed a guy' part of it, but...well, it was an accident...and they knew Faith. Both of them believed that she really was feeling genuine remorse for her actions, and so were sticking by her.

Oz in particular had taken it all in stride, or at least seemed to, in his usual stoic manner. It was hard for anyone else to really get a handle on what exactly went through his head.

“The Council won't be sending one.” Giles replied to the werewolf's question. “At the recommendation of both Wesley and myself,” he looked to the other Watcher, who was fidgeting nervously, as if uncomfortable. “the Council has agreed that facing a tribunal would not be the best thing for Faith, all things considered.” He smirked, despite himself. “No fact-finding mission will be coming here, either, as the Council's forum accepted our report that the death was accidental during the heat of battle. Quentin Travers is absolutely furious about that, apparently.”

“Sounds like good news to me.” Buffy all but spat. “Maybe his head will explode.” Wesley started to stutter in indignation, but Giles interrupted him before he could get any words in.

“If only we'd be so lucky. Regardless, though, we have more than just murder charges to worry about.” Giles looked over the group.

“Yeah.” Faith nodded. “We've got a black hat mayor around here that hires vampires to do his dirty work. Since Finch worked for that guy, I don't think I'd end up getting a fair trial before a jury of my peers, or whatever all that crap is.” Faith was leaning back in her chair, two of its legs off the ground, both her feet on the edge of the table, arms crossed in front of her.

“But why would he only want to kill one Slayer?” Willow asked slowly. “I mean, if he's the bad guy, shouldn't he want both of you dead?” She held up her hands, “Not that I want him to **_want_** both of you de- I mean...” She trailed off.

“Yeah. It's a good question.” Amy agreed. “I mean, if Mayor Wilkins is the one who's bossing Spike around, then why did he tell that vamp to help us, when those...Sisterhood demons showed up?”

“I-” Wesley started, then cleared his throat. “That is, I may have an answer to that question. Or part of one, anyway.”

Xander looked over to him. “Wait. You actually did something useful for once? Well, share with the rest of the class then.” He gestured from Wesley to the entire group.

“Xander.” Giles looked at the younger man pointedly. Harris just rolled his eyes, less than impressed with the rebuke.

Wesley cleared his throat again, then started to explain. “The current Mayor of Sunnydale is, as we all know, Richard Wilkins III. And according to my research, Sunnydale has only had three mayors in its history. Richard Wilkins I,” Wesley put a piece of paper down on the table – a photocopy of some old-looking black and white picture. It depicted a cheery-looking man standing with a group of people, all of them dressed in late 19th century period clothing. “Richard Wilkins II,” Wesley put another photocopy of another picture on the table, a picture of...the exact same man, albeit a color photo this time, standing with several politicians, a banner behind them indicating the year was 1952. “And Richard Wilkins III.” Wesley put a picture of the current Mayor of Sunnydale, looking like it was taken from a newspaper or right off the television.

All three men looked exactly alike.

“Strong family resemblance?” Willow offered weakly, looking at the pictures.

“I rather doubt it.” Giles replied. “I suspect they're the same person. All three of them. They're too identical. And if you think about it, how old must Richard I have been before fathering a son? Look at the date on the, the second photograph...”

“But Mayor Wilkins can't be a vampire. He's been out in the daylight, I've seen it.” Cordelia cut in. “A couple of years ago, I was with my parents at some fundraiser for one of the candidates running for state governor. I remember seeing the Mayor there – he was outside along with the rest of us, and it was definitely sunny.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, being turned into one of the undead isn't the only way to become immortal. Or at least live a long time.” Wesley said. “The thing is, there are any number of demons that might, with proper inducement-” Wesley's voice firmed up as he started to enter lecture mode.

Giles held up a hand and interrupted the other Watcher. “Perhaps the details can, ah, wait for later, Wesley.” Steepling his fingers a moment, Giles continued. “If he  ** _has_**  indeed been alive and running Sunnydale for the last hundred years, then it would seem that Wilkins is, or has been, playing some sort of...long game. I, I would surmise that the Sisterhood opening the Hellmouth and bringing about the apocalypse wasn't part of his plans.”

“He doesn't want to share with the other kids.” Oz suggested. Everyone looked to him, several of them raising eyebrows. “Richard Wilkins I founded Sunnydale. If he's the same guy, and he's evil...”

“Then he's known about the Hellmouth the entire time!” Cordelia cut in. “And...oh my God, that would explain why all the cops around here are so completely useless!”

“And why there are so many convenient sewers and electrical tunnels that the vampires can move through so easily.” Willow said, her mind working quickly. “I mean, for that to happen, I'd always figured a vampire must have gotten involved with city planning at some point...but if it was him all along then I didn't guess right and oooh, that makes me so darn...” Willow stopped talking when she saw the amused look on Buffy and Xander's faces. “Sorry. I, I was babbling again, wasn't I?”

“A little.” Xander shrugged. He clapped his hands together a moment, punctuating his next words. “So! We have an evil mayor who wants to kill Faith and who's been running Sunnydale for the last hundred years, pulling the old Highlander routine this whole time...” 

Oddly, out of all the people at the table, only Cordelia seemed to get the reference. Xander looked at them all. “You know...supposedly dying and then inheriting everything as his own 'son'. Highlander. Oh, come on – none of you guys ever watched the movie, or the TV show?”

“Pop-culture references aside, you have restated the situation quite nicely.” Giles replied, ignoring the question.

“Yeah, you're showing your grasp of the obvious.” Amy agreed. “And...?”

“That's exactly my point.” Xander replied. “Okay, it's not looking that good, but what exactly can we do about it? Alright, so, the Mayor's evil, but we can't simply walk into City Hall and kill him. Well, I'm assuming it's just not that simple, anyway. And it's not as if two Slayers can't handle a bunch of vampires, right?”

“Spike and Trick aren't exactly your standard fledglings.” Buffy pointed out.

“O-obviously not.” Giles agreed. “But if you two stick together during patrol, then you should be able to hold off any attack – or, or at least manage to hold them off long enough to get behind a threshold, if it comes to that.”

“And what about after those two vampires are dealt with?” Wesley cut in, looking thoughtful. “Does it seem likely to you that the Mayor will just give up on killing Faith, even if both Trick and Spike are dealt with?”

“A little premature, maybe?” Oz offered.

“Quite.” Agreed Giles. “Wesley does have a point in that we need a strategy to deal with Wilkins once and for all, and sooner rather than later. At the moment, however, we just don't have adequate information.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “At the moment, as I say. But –” 

The sound of the bell going off interrupted Giles. Lunch break was over. The librarian then added, “We shall have to continue this discussion later, I suppose; those of you who need to get to class, h-had better do so.”

**February 14th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Can't we do something  _other_  than levitating pencils?” Willow almost pleaded, exhibiting a stereotypical 'puppy-dog eyes' expression a couple of hours later. “We've been working on that for over a week! I know how to do it. And then some!” Closing her eyes a moment, Willow focused her mind. Four pencils rose off the table and started twirling around. “See?”

Giles cleared his throat and dropped the heavy tome he was holding onto the table. It landed with a loud thud. Three of the pencils fell back on to the table. The fourth went whizzing past Willow's head, missing Amy by mere inches as she walked into the library.

“I'm going to assume that that wasn't on purpose.” Amy said with a laugh as she walked over to yank the pencil out of the wall. Despite her amused affectation, part of her was twisted up in knots, like she always was when she entered the library. Would Giles realize that the book he thought he'd 'misplaced' was actually stolen? By her?

And what else would that...person, whoever it was, demand of her?

“Levitating pencils is about more than just power or knowledge, Willow.” Giles said calmly. “It's about concentration, a-and control. Self-control. I don't doubt the power that either of you possess – no one who has the raw power to return a soul to a vampire, or...explode someone's heart from their chest with limited ritual is lacking for power.”

“Unfortunately,” Giles continued, stepping away from the table. “The two of you are quite young for such power, and the historical record is unfortunately full of young and powerful casters that, lacking proper control of their talents, eventually ended up...” Rupert's voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Well, it's not exactly pretty. I could give you examples, but then we'd be here for days.”  _Though it would be a good idea to extract a few examples from my texts for our next lesson..._

Giles pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don't think e-either of you would willingly use your magic for ill, but...losing control of one's magic can lead to results just as catastrophic as, as using it for evil purpose. As your near skewering of Amy showed.”

Willow nodded, looking a little sheepish. “Alright.” As much as she wanted to keep learning more – and she was, at home and whenever she had the opportunity otherwise...Giles was right. Control was important.

_If I was British like him, maybe I could just stiff-upper-lip my magic into line._  Despite what Giles had just said, a smile rose to Willow's face at that thought. Only for a moment, though.

“Then we shall continue with levitating pencils, for now.” Giles said. Amy handed him the pencil that had almost hit her and he set that on the table with the others. “I promise to try and come up with something slightly more...entertaining than levitating pencils for next lesson. Begin, a-and do your utmost to control your emotions. Self-control, as I said.”

Amy and Willow both took chairs and moved them so that they were some five feet from the table. Once they were seated, they both looked at the pencils on the table. Both pencils rose up on either end of the table, and both witches brought them over towards them, letting them hover in front of them.

“Now, stop levitating your pencil and switch to levitating each other's pencils. Try not to let either fall, if possible.”

Opening her eyes, Amy let her magic release one, and looked to the left as Willow released hers. In a magical 'move' well practiced by this point, Amy took over levitating the pencil in front of Willow. Willow managed the transition just as easily.

“Excellent. Now, move them back to the table and set them down gently before releasing them.” Once the girls had done as he had told them, Giles started to tap lightly on the table, to a rhythmic pattern. “Good, now do it again. I will increase the volume and frequency of the tapping progressively. Do not let it distract you. Begin.”

**February 14th, 1999  
Outside the Icarus Restaurant, Sunnydale**

Under normal circumstances, Xander didn't like driving his dad's car anymore. It felt too...morbid, for want of a better word. His father wasn't even six months in his grave, and here he was, 'profiting' from it. Still, there were times when the young man was actually willing to drive the Harris-mobile. Such as tonight. 

Because when you're the one taking the girl on a Valentine's Day dinner date...well, it just doesn't work if she's the one who does the driving.

Pulling into a parking spot, Xander switched off the car's ignition,  took out the keys and got out of the vehicle. Moving quickly, he checked himself as he walked around the car. Among the many outfits Cordelia had insisted on buying for him since they'd started dating had been clothes that had to be hung up, and ironed – and even dry cleaned. Fancy restaurant clothes, that is.

Hatred of clothes shopping aside, Xander spared a moment's gratitude to Cordelia's insistence on the subject. If not for that, his options for what to wear tonight would have been more limited, and...

Well, given that he was still in the doghouse with his girlfriend, Xander wanted to pull out all the stops that he could tonight. He'd already been planning on bringing her here for the last month – he'd actually made reservations a few weeks ago. Just...well, now he had to make sure everything was better than perfect.

Xander opened the passenger side door for Cordelia. “Shall we?” He proffered his arm.

Cordelia took his arm as offered. “You know, I didn't think you had it in you.” Cordelia said with a smile. “I wouldn't have thought that  ** _you_**  of all people could get a reservation here, so close to Valentine's Day.”

“Give me some credit.” Xander replied. “I made the reservations weeks ago.” He leaned in and gave Cordelia a quick kiss on the cheek. “Given how bad our last Valentine's Day went...well, I didn't want to take any chances that I'd screw up on this one.”

“Xander, Valentine's Day is important, but-” She cut herself off as they walked inside.

“Reservation for Harris, party of two.” Xander told the maître d'. Tonight was definitely going to use up a big chunk of his road trip money. But hey, Cordelia was well worth it.

As one might expect for one of the few truly fancy restaurants in Sunnydale on Valentine's Day, Icarus was crowded. But there were some tables left – all of them reserved. Once they were led to their table and handed their menus, Cordelia continued. “The important thing about Valentine's Day is that you actually try to do the right thing by me. Which you have. Look, Xander, I know I said some things to you the other night...things you damn well deserved to hear, don't get me wrong...but I still love you. I'm not going to break up with you, if things don't go one hundred percent perfect this evening.” Then she leaned in a little, smirking. “Though I was considering adding onto the month...”

“You wouldn't be that cruel, would you?” Xander replied, only half-serious. He knew she would, if she really felt the need.

“Of course I would.” Cordelia looked at the menu. When the waiter finally arrived, Xander couldn't help but wince internally when he checked the prices of what she was ordering.  _Break up with me? No. Break my wallet? Apparently she's all for that._

**February 14th, 1999  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Cordelia leaned her head against Xander's shoulder as they sat together on the couch, just enjoying each other's presence late at night. “Okay, I'll give you this: tonight was the best Valentine's Day date I've ever had.” She smiled. “Much better than last year.”

“Sweetheart, I think just about  ** _anything_**  would qualify as better than last year. I mean, after you dumped me at the Bronze and then I...oh, I really screwed up, let's face it.” Xander held his arm around her shoulders.

“Well, yeah, you did screw up, but it's not like I was being the world's best girlfriend back then, either.” Cordelia laughed a little. “Hell, my Valentine's Day date during sophomore year isn't exactly something I really want to remember, either.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. I really do wish I could just bleach that one out of my memory, and the memory of that guy's grope-y hands.” Cordelia smiled a little, then moved in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Xander returned the kiss, though he didn't pull away immediately after. He let his other hand go around Cordelia's back, and held her close for several moments, kissing her until both of them had to pull back a little for air. Not breathless yet, not quite, but they were just about there. Xander ran his hand through Cordelia's hair a moment. 

“I love you too.” Harris murmured back, still holding her close.

While the two of them had a relationship that was as much built on enjoying mutual snark as anything else...sometimes...just moments together like this were all they needed.

Quiet, calm moments together can be so underrated, just spending a little time with the one you love, just close together, nothing else.

“I know. But remember, dorkhead; that doesn't mean that you're getting lucky again, anytime soon!”

**February 15th, 1999  
1420 Truman Drive, Sunnydale**

Not long after midnight, it was down to Amy and the candle.

She'd been making a little progress – and the work with the pencils, boring as it was, actually was helping.

As it turned out, lighting the candle wasn't really the problem. She'd managed to light the candle soon enough into her efforts...but the downside was that...well, she lit it too well. If she hadn't had a glass of water on hand, just in case...

_Well, I did, and I still do now._

The 'warlock', or whatever he was, as some sort of mocking, cruel 'payment' for stealing from Giles, had left her notes detailing tips on how to create fire and control it. Amy had torn them up and tossed them out without reading them, though. She wasn't taking tips from him. Not after...not after...never.

In a fit of bad timing, Amy had the candle alight the moment her phone started to ring. A spike of fear ran through her at the sound. Only two people would be calling her this late. Faith, or... _him_. But that fear...the small flame on the candle shot up, growing larger, even though the wick shouldn't have been able to support that much fire.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Grabbing the glass of water, Amy dunked it on the candle, dousing the flames and knocking the wet, smoking candle over onto the carpet. To be safe, Amy righted the candle as she picked up the cell phone...

Her throat tightened almost instinctively when she saw the number.

_No...I won't answer it._  Amy breathed in deeply, thoughts scattered, nerves wracked. Even her deep breaths came in more like shallow, shuddering ones. How is it...he's just calling me...and... She looked back to the candle, deciding to focus on lifting it off the ground...

No composure. No focus. Everything was shot to hell.

The ringing stopped after a minute. Still shaking, Amy closed her eyes. Would he call again?

Barely was the thought in her head before the phone started to ring again. Suddenly, she decided to simply answer the damn thing. Otherwise, it could and probably would ring all night, driving her crazy.

Heart pounding, Amy snatched it up and opened it, bringing the phone up to her ear. “What do you want?” Amy demanded, putting all her effort into sounding far more collected than she really was.

“Really, Miss Madison, is that any way to talk? A man can't call to see how his protégé is using the tricks and tips he gave her?” The warlock – it was as good a label as any – said in that familiar, distasteful, 'paternal' tone.

“I'm not your protégé, and I'm  _never_  using anything you give me. Never again.” Amy held the phone half a foot from herself, as if it was going to turn into a venomous snake, or explode on her.

“I see. Hmm, cutting off your nose to spite your face.” The voice made a disappointed 'tsk' sound. “Not a very reasonable way to improve your skill in magic, I must say.”

“The last time I used something from you, _I killed my mother._  And I'm not accepting any so-called reward from you, for stealing from Giles. I'm not a thief for hire. I don't want to get better at magic at that cost.” Amy was still, for the moment, managing to keep her voice steady and firm. But it wasn't easy, and it was getting harder. Every word that came from him...it only made her nerves even jumpier, her throat seem to tighten just a little more.

“Tut tut, Miss Madison. Lying is such an unhealthy habit, especially lying to yourself. You may not be my protégé in an official sense, but you may as well be – you have the hunger for magic, for power. You went to Rack, after all. You knew who and what he was. You'd been to him before. You want power, and we both know that deep down, you want what I have to offer. All you need to do is to carry out a favor for me, every now and then...”

“Never.” Amy spat. She couldn't do that. What else would he make her do? And...no...she couldn't. “I don't work for you.”

“Of course you do. After all, there are still things I know that you don't want to become public knowledge, I'm sure.”

Amy stiffened, her voice acquiring a slight shudder, “Blackmail isn't employment.”

“No, no, no.” The warlock replied at once, sounding amazingly chipper. “I'm not blackmailing you – blackmail is such a dirty word, after all. I'm paying you. With magic, and with my silence. Everyone always has choices. I just like to make sure everyone is clear on the consequences.”

“You can dress it up however you want. This...is...still...blackmail.” The words came out with a stagger, brief pauses after every single word.  _Damn it!_ Words weren't coming to her lips, they weren't coming out easily. Her heart raced, her tongue felt dry as fear continued to keep her in its grasp.

“Well, I suppose we'll have to continue this part of our discussion later. Because right now, there's something else I need you to do. In exchange for payment, of course.” Before Amy could  interrupt his speech, however, the witch felt her throat tighten to the point where she couldn't speak at all, the unknown caller's magic clamping around her vocal cords.

“There's a demon here in Sunnydale that has something I need. And you're going to get it from them.” Amy felt the pressure around her throat relax.

“You're insane. I can't go up against-” The pressure appeared again.

“Actually, you can. Power isn't your problem, after all. Just don't worry about controlling yourself. You take care of the demon, and get me the jeweled goblet in his possession. You have two days, Miss Madison. And I suggest you use the tips and tricks you'll find in the same place I used last time. You'll need them. You'll also find the name of the demon in question. Remember, I'm paying you with my silence. Besides, there's nothing wrong with killing evil demons, is there? Of course, your silence on this is part of the job.” There was a tiny hint of a laugh in the warlock's voice. The pressure vanished from her throat, as the warlock hung up on his end.

Hands shaking, Amy closed her phone and let it drop nervelessly from her grasp.

_No, damn it. No...it's happening again...and I can't stop it..._

**February 15th, 1999  
Chase Residence, Sunnydale**

Ignoring the early morning sunlight entering the bedroom window, Xander looked back to Cordelia, making sure she was still asleep. A wide smile lit up his face, as the male teen examined the young woman he had fallen hopelessly in love with.

They had slept in the same bed last night, but there had been no hanky-panky of any sort; Miss Chase was nothing if not a woman of her word, after all, and she had not rescinded her ban on sexual relations between them. Of course, that didn't mean she didn't put on the sexiest, flimsiest nightie she possessed, before getting into bed with him... 

It had been difficult for Xander to restrain himself from jumping her bones, but he had known that last night was a test of his willpower as much anything else; and he had been determined to pass and make up for past mistakes. If he had to wait a month for them to be together that way again, so be it. If Cordelia decided that sex was back on the table before then – and hopefully, after their most romantic date ever, she would – that was strictly up to her.

Reaching underneath his pillow, he retrieved the Iron Coin. He'd gotten lazy before. Now...now he was never going to be lazy with it again.

“Buffy Summers.” Xander flipped the coin in the air as he spoke. Images flashed in his mind – Buffy fighting some kind of demon – tall, silver, no mouth...but nothing more. 

“Faith Lehane.” Nothing came through. No images, no flashes. Well, good – the brunette had enough to deal with right now, including being a target for revenge thanks to Alan Finch's death.

“Willow Rosenberg.” At once, Xander saw it; Willow, alone in a dark room. A locked door. He didn't recognize the room. A vampire lunging for her – then a floating pencil driving through into its heart, as the undead thing got staked in the back. Dust.  _All that pencil work's paying off..._  Xander couldn't help but smile at that.  _Still, note to self – remind Will not to get trapped alone with a vampire anytime soon!_ Yea, **that** was really helpful.

“Amy Madison.” Nothing. “Daniel Osbourne.” Nothing. “Joyce Summers.” Nothing. “Jessica Harris.” Not a thing. Well, only one person left to go...

“Cordelia Chase.” 

Straightaway Harris saw an image of his girlfriend, alone and sitting on a bus.  _What the hell? Likw Cordy would ever lower herself to using public transportation! What's going on?_

The image was blurry, distorted, but he could still see that there were tears running down Cordelia's cheeks. And then he saw the exterior of the bus, the highway it was traveling on; a sign flashing by that read 'Los Angeles, 43 Miles.'

_What the hell does all that mean?_ The Coin didn't always make things one hundred percent clear, sure, but this was...this was very different. Vague, unfocused. Was that all that Fate had planned for them next?

_I mean yeah, sure, we've had that conversation about getting out of Sunnydale once high school is over, and more than once. But Cordelia was alone. I wasn't there...how does Fate make that happen..._

Never mind. Whether Fate was responsible for writing this in Cordelia's book or not, in Xander's view the situation was wrong – and now, it needed to be fixed. 

_I screwed things up for Fate, somehow...major screw up._ The book was wrong – and now it needed to be fixed. That had to be why he was seeing so little, nothing to work with. Because at this particular moment, there was little Fate had in store that was actually possible to happen now.

**February 17th, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

Emptying the vial of Alan's blood into the newly acquired goblet, Wilkins began to chant, the Ancient Greek words rolling smoothly off his tongue. Normally, calling on the demonic being associated with goblets such as this was not something Richard Wilkins would do lightly. But given Detective Stein's inability to pin the murder of the late Deputy Mayor on either Slayer...

Besides, the goblets were difficult to find at the best of times – such rare and powerful objects always were.

Well, that was what he had people like Amy Madison on retainer for. He briefly wondered how the young woman would explain away the bruises the demon had given her during their little fight. It wasn't a particularly powerful breed of demon, but it hadn't been easy for the witch to take care of. Just as he'd known she would, Miss Madison had had to...lose control.

It would make it easier, given time.

**_Who calls upon me?_ **

Wilkins responded in Ancient Greek, not with his name, but with his title as Mayor of Sunnydale. Names had power in the hands of this particular demon, after all, which wouldn't do at all as far as Richard's prospects for longevity were concerned.

**_You seek to know the killer of the one whose blood you fed my vessel. You are prepared to pay the debt to be owed?_ **

Wilkins responded in the affirmative.

**_Then see!_ **

The blood in the goblet lit aflame by no visible external means, and smoke rose from it. Within moments, the smoke formed a picture, but not just a picture in grey smoke. Rather, it was a full color image, rising above the goblet.

The picture showed a young woman, one with dark hair, driving her stake into the heart of Deputy Mayor Alan Finch.

The picture vanished after only a few seconds, and the flames dissipated soon after. But it was enough for all three men present in the room to identify Faith as the culprit.

“Mr. Trick.” Wilkins turned to the black vampire. “You're up.”

Trick looked at Spike, smirking. “What can I say? I'm a lucky man.” Cracking his fingers a little dramatically, Trick turned back to the Mayor. “She'll be dead before the end of the night, sir.”

**February 17th, 1999  
Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale**

Detective Paul Stein looked out through the front window of his car, tracking the two suspects with binoculars. He had no idea what Miss Lehane and Miss Summers were doing walking around in a cemetery, and during the middle of the night, but it couldn't be something on the straight and narrow. The last two nights he'd had people tailing them from a distance, but apart from an apparent fascination with cemeteries and a penchant for wandering around late at night, there was nothing of use.

Now he was the one watching them.

_Which one did it?_  It was a question that continually rolled around in Stein's head as he watched the two girls. As a professional cop, he tried not to make judgments; but he did wonder, always, when investigating a case. Instinct and gut inclinations were good things to have as a detective, but evidence – facts – had to be kept in the foremost position. A neat theory without proof was just that – a neat theory, and it fell apart very quickly in the cold light of a courtroom. And falling in love with a theory, even in the face of the evidence, was not something that was productive in terms of catching his killer.

Still, Stein couldn't help but suspect that of the two, it was probably the Summers girl who had done it. It fit in too well with her overall record – getting into fights, burning down that school gym in Los Angeles, even killing that Ted Buchanan guy in self-defense when she'd shoved him down the stairs.

Stein didn't think the death of Deputy Mayor was a premeditated one – why would either of those two have any reason to kill him? But, however it had happened, a man was dead. And it was his job to figure out who did it, and bring them to justice.

Stein lowered the binoculars as he heard someone approaching his car. Putting a hand on his gun, he started to get out of the car, but the black man reached into his suit jacket and took out a Sunnydale City Hall identification card. He gestured for Stein to lower the window, and  so the policeman did, checking to make sure the two girls weren't looking in his direction – they didn't seem to be.

“Detective Stein, right? The Mayor wanted me to tell you that your work on this investigation has been much appreciated...but due to unexpected developments, your services are no longer required.” The man smirked, and despite himself, Stein felt a tiny shiver go down his spine.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” The man's canines suddenly started to elongate, as his eyes narrowed and went yellow, ridges forming on his face and forehead. “That dinner is served.”

Quicker than the eye could follow, Trick reached in through the open window and pulled Stein out of the car, sinking his teeth into the detective's neck before he could do more than let out one scream. The man's blood washed over Trick's tongue, as the vampire drained him dry.

Stein's sole scream as his lifeblood was drained from him just barely reached the two Slayers.

“What the-” Buffy turned to Faith. “Did you-”

“Yeah, I heard it too.” Faith twirled a stake in her hand. “Let's go!” 

Tightening her grip around the wooden weapon, Faith ran in the direction of the scream, Buffy right alongside her. Both of them all but skidded to a halt when they saw Trick standing there, over the drained body of a familiar face – Detective Stein.

“Well, isn't this just groovy. Two Slayers, for the price of one.” Trick smirked, still wearing his game face. “Good thing I brought friends.” From all around the Slayers, except to their rear, vampires came out of cars or bushes or from behind trees. Ten of them.

“So why'd you kill him? You both work for the same guy.” Buffy said, dragging her eyes away from the dead body to look directly at Trick.

“What can I say? The Mayor doesn't like incompetence, and the good detective just wasn't getting results. Besides, I was hungry.” Trick's smirk turned into a vicious smile. “Plus, I didn't want to have that flatfoot interrupting our fun, now that I know who to kill.” He turned his gaze directly onto Buffy. “You can run if you want. Me and my boys may be under orders not to kill you, at least not tonight, but there's no orders against maiming you to our heart's content. And you don't want that, right?”

Buffy scoffed. “Not gonna happen.”

Trick shrugged. “Worth a try.” He jumped up onto the top of Stein's car. “Gentlemen! Dinner time!”

Snarling, the ten vampires charged at Buffy and Faith en masse, from all directions. Not even trying to take them all on at once, Buffy and Faith merely exchanged a brief look before immediately turning and running, back towards the cemetery, Trick's minions close behind.

Buffy jumped over one of the tombstones and landed behind it. She looked at the two vampires close behind, running right at her, then back at the tombstone just in front of her. Taking a big step back, she ran at the tombstone, one foot catching onto the top just as the vampires were close enough to grab at her. But rather than catching hold of her, Buffy used the boost from the grave marker to jump up and over them. One vampire moved too quick, tripping itself over the tombstone, landing flat on its back on the other side.

Landing on her feet, Buffy drove her stake into the chest of the still-standing vampire, as it turned back around to face her. One down, one out for the next few moments, and two more coming at her. Immediately she was punching and kicking, holding them at bay while trying to get an opening to stake them.

Not fifteen feet away, but too far for Buffy to pay any attention to, was Faith, six vampires attacking her at once. Trick was standing some distance farther back, watching as the brunette tried to take on six enemies at the same time, moving in a blur, kicking and punching. She could keep them all at bay, but what Faith couldn't do was stake a single one of them, even when there were openings. Every time a chance to do so emerged, another vampire came at her from another direction again -

_Just what I got them for._  Trick thought to himself, his face returning to its human guise and leaning with his back against a tree. All ten vamps he'd gotten were pretty young. Not too old – he didn't want to risk one of them getting the kill that belonged to him – and also young enough to not get the limits even vampires had.  _That's right. Wear that girl out. Keep her and her friend busy._

“Hey, how's it going?” Trick turned at the sound of the voice behind him, only to come face to face with a tall man in a black coat. Angel.

“What do you want?” Trick snarled at the new arrival, grabbing for his stake. He knew who Angel was, after all. And a Master vampire had to keep his minions in line. Always good to have a stake on hand.

Angel made a brief show of counting the various vampires attacking Buffy and Faith as he stepped back from Trick, out of easy range of his stake. “What is that, ten on two? Hardly seems fair.”

“I don't play to be fair. I play to win.” Trick replied, lunging at Angel.

The other vampire was ready for it, though, and caught Trick by the shoulders, hurling him forward and away. The black vampire crashed into the group of undead attacking Faith, creating a sprawled pile of vampires with the Slayer stuck in there as well.

Running towards them, Angel watched as Faith got to her feet first, Trick only moments later, giving her no opening to stake one of the prone vampires.

“Hell, I'm gonna enjoy this.” Trick kicked at Faith, and battle was joined between the two. Leaving them to it, Angel pulled out his own stake and immediately took out, in quick succession, two of Trick's fallen minions before the rest could get onto their feet – though it still left him with a four on one fight.

With Angel and Faith both occupied, Buffy had managed, by luck and her knowledge of the cemetery’s layout, to stake one of the other vampires. At the same time that Angel was throwing Trick around, Buffy had leapt up, grabbed onto an overhanging tree branch and kicked one of her foes with both feet, sending him flying into a tombstone, cracking and sending a few chips scattering off onto the ground.

The opening that had created gave Buffy enough time to stake one of her other opponents – but even as that one collapsed into dust, the other one still standing grabbed her arm from behind, yanking her backwards.

Buffy kicked backwards, into the vampire, propelling herself away and out of his grasp with a stumble. “You almost had me there.” Buffy quipped, pressing her back against the tree as the other vampire she'd knocked over stood up and came at her. “Oh, hang on, wait...” Buffy smiled. “Your boss said that you guys aren't allowed to kill me, right?”

Both vampires pulled up short, then looked at each other for the briefest of moments, somewhat thrown by the prey's question. It was all Buffy needed. She lunged at one of them, knocking the undead creature to the ground and driving her stake into its heart. Buffy stood up and looked at the last one, who was already starting to back up.

“You stay, I'm gonna kill you. Trust me, whatever you're being paid for this? It's not worth it.” Buffy hefted the stake in her hand, as if she was about to throw it.

That was all she needed to do. The vampire turned around, and started running off into the night. Not waiting to watch it run off, Buffy looked for Faith.

“Angel!”  _What the hell is he doing here?_  Her boyfriend was still fighting three vampires – and Faith seemed to be holding her own against Trick.

_Help Angel, back Faith up if she needs it._  Her priorities set, Buffy ran towards Angel.

Faith ducked under a punch from Trick. “So what's it like working for Mayor McEvil? Better than being a minion for Kakistos?” Faith asked him as she punched at Trick in turn.

Trick stepped back, avoiding the blow. “Yeah, doesn't suck. Pay's good, and the side benefits are pretty nice too.” Faith nearly fell over as Trick's foot connected with her leg. Reaching out, Trick grabbed her arm and he pulled her towards him. “Spike's always going on about how good Slayer blood tastes. Now I know he likes to exaggerate, but let's see if he was actually right for once...” With his other hand, Trick grabbed her hand and forced the stake from her grip.

“Go to hell.” Pulling her head back, Faith drove it forward, directly into Trick's face. She heard – and felt – a sickening crunch as her head connected with the vampire's nose. Yelping in pain, Trick let go of her, one hand flying to his bloody, broken nose.

“Bitch!” Trick grabbed Faith's left arm with his free hand, pulling her back in, hooking his elbow over hers. Faith felt the tug coming.

“Oh no you don't.” Faith still didn't have a stake – hers was still somewhere on the ground. Kicking out at Trick, she sent him staggering back again. “Buffy!” Faith called out, not turning her eyes from Trick. “Stake!”

Even though Faith didn't see it, it wasn't Buffy who threw the weapon. With his girlfriend dealing with the last of Trick's minions – though another had run off – Angel was the one who obliged the brunette. Catching it, Faith came at Trick again.

“Die, you fucking bitch!” Trick yelled, growling before going into his demon face again. It was do or die time. Faith had to die, or the Mayor would do worse – far worse – than that to him. Lunging for the Slayer, he missed her by an inch – before the girl's stake flew under his guard, plunging into his chest. Trick staggered back, biting his lip a moment. 

“Oh no.” He shook his head. “No, this is no good at all...” 

The words were barely out of Trick's mouth before there was a hiss, a scream of an escaping demon, a momentary glimpse of a skeleton – and then his body collapsed into dust.


	18. Episode 17: Demonic Encyclopedia Salesmen

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Thanks to Starway Man, for beta-reading this chapter.

Yes, it has been a godawful long time since I've touched my fanfics or what have you...I don't have any real good excuse. I actually have had this chapter done for a while, I just...didn't get to it. Sorry. But here it is.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 17: Demonic Encyclopedia Salesmen

**February 18th, 1999  
Faith's Apartment, Sunnydale**

Faith looked up at the sound of knocking on her front door. Wasn't Amy – whoever it was, they didn't knock like her. And given that Buffy had been busy swapping spit with Angel when she'd last seen the other Slayer, it didn't seem too likely that it was that girl, either. And she couldn't think of anyone else who would be knocking on her door at – Faith looked at the clock on the microwave. Huh. One-fifteen in the morning?

Grabbing a stake and holding on the inside of her arm, point up, Faith looked through the peep-hole in the door. 

_Princess Margaret? What the hell is he doing here?_ Her supposed Watcher had been pretty scarce ever since he'd first arrived, only hanging around the library, so she only ran into him when she was there too. Which, for Faith's money, was all the better. The less she had to do with Wussley, the better. 

Still, she didn't want a lecture from Giles about being too uncooperative with the guy. And it wasn't as if she had anything else to do right now. She was still amped and awake from the fight, couldn't sleep. And she hurt all over. Getting attacked by so many vamps at once, and then almost having your arm broken by one like Trick – not fun stuff. She'd considered dropping by Amy's place but, well, her friend would be asleep at this point.

_Why is he adjusting that stupid tie of his?_ Faith shook her head and unhooked the chain on the door, opening it. “What do you want, Watcher-boy?” Faith asked, tone as blunt as her words.

“I thought you'd be awake still.” He said. “Can I come in?”

“I don't know, can you?” He didn't come off as a vampire, not according to the fancy 'magic' Slayer senses – but well, couldn't those be wrong? Faith stepped aside a bit to let him come in, if he could. _Wonder if he's smart enough to get what I meant._

“Ah yes. Very good. Constant vigilance.” Wesley stepped across the threshold of her apartment without any apparent difficulty. “As you can see, I am not a vampire, though I commend your caution. A good slayer is a cautious slayer.”

Faith rolled her eyes at how over the top he was sounding. All stereotype from limey-land. “Isn't it past your bedtime?”

Wesley looked at her in what he probably thought was a stern manner. He just looked even more pompous. “A Watcher must be prepared to match his Slayer's sleep cycle if need be.” He sounded like he was quoting something or someone. _He probably is. Geez, does the guy ever have a thought all his own? Or just what he reads in his books?_ Thank God Giles wasn't this bad – from what Buffy said, he did used to be stuffier and all that shit, but never this bad.

“Alright. Fine. Whatever. Why are you here? Slayer-Watcher bonding time?” Faith turned away from him and walked towards the fridge. Like everything else in her apartment that wasn't broken, torn or ripped, the fridge was a little dented after...that night, and the morning after it. But it still worked. Snagging a bottle of beer, she popped the cap off and closed the refrigerator door with her foot. “Because I gotta say, not interested if that's the case.” 

Wesley looked at the bottle of Budweiser in her hand, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. Faith rolled her eyes again. “What, you've got a problem with me drinking beer?” And he was **_still_** standing all stiffly. _That has got to be one big stick up his ass._

“Actually, I was more staring in askance at your particular choice of alcoholic beverage. Budweiser isn't exactly a quality beer. Though, given that you're an American, you probably wouldn't know any better.” He murmured that last sentence, as if thinking it aloud. Faith did a double-take, looking at her 'Watcher' to make sure he really was wearing the same stiff suit and tie as always. Which he was. “What?” He asked, as if reading her expression.

“You dress like _that_ ,” she pointed to his suit, “and walk and talk like you've got a giant stick rammed up your English Channel. Shouldn't you be getting all stiff and proper about me drinking while I'm underage? Rather than, you know, getting picking about the 'quality',” she used her free hand to supply air quotes, “of the booze I drink?”

“Ah. Well, the fact is that the legal drinking age in the United Kingdom is eighteen, so the whole 'underage' honestly didn't occur to me. After all, if I recall correctly, you turned eighteen earlier this month.” Wesley pointed out. “Besides. If I were to tell you to stop drinking, would you actually listen to me?”

“Hell no.” Faith answered, taking another sip of her beer. 

“Well, there you are. And as long as it doesn't impair your ability to do fulfill your duties as a Slayer, I won't waste my breath telling you to not drink alcohol.” Wesley concluded. “It may not be the most desirable of habits for you to indulge in, but it is certainly preferable to any number of other possibilities I can imagine.” 

Faith laughed. “You just can't speak normal, can you?” Then she looked away. “Yea, that's all I am to you. A Slayer. Got my duties and I'm nothing but.” She scoffed. “Just some kind of fucking weapon.”

Wesley looked away nervously a moment, but then sucked in a deep breath. “What you are besides a Slayer is up to you, Faith. I'm not here to serve as a parental figure, as Mr. Giles seems to do for Buffy. I am also not here to be your friend, or to police what you do in your spare time. Especially since I imagine that last one would be quite impossible...”

“My job,” Wesley continued, looking at her directly, “is to serve as your Watcher. Your ability to do your job as a Slayer, then, is my primary concern – no, it's my sole concern. I'm here to train you, to guide you in your duty and to provide support where I can in respect to fulfilling said duty. If you're looking for friendship and companionship, well, then I believe that's what Miss Madison is for. Not to mention Miss Summers and all her friends.”

_The guy's actually being honest with me. I can respect that. A little._ Still, shafted in the Watcher department. She'd had a decent one last year, an old lady much like Giles. Diana had cared, had tried to get her to stop smoking, and lay off the sauce. And Kakistos had gone and killed her. Now instead of Giles she got little mister pansy-ass, who didn't give a crap about her except how well she could dust vamps and kill demons. 

But hey, at least, he was being up front about it with her. None of that fake 'I want to be your friend shit,' like Mrs. Psycho-Post had been working at. 

“So you didn't come here for the Slayer-Watcher bonding then either?” Faith sat down on her couch, still beat up from earlier, like the fridge, though far worse. “Not doing much to make me like you.”

“I don't need you to like me.” Wesley pointed out. “I suppose it would perhaps make my job easier if you liked me, granted. Or respected me and my authority as your Watcher. I continue to hold out hope we may get there at some point...”

Faith scoffed. “Don't count on it, Princess Margaret.” 

Wesley ignored the insult. “I can promise you this much, Faith. I will do what I can to ensure that you live as long as is possible. I would not throw your life away needlessly. Your overall well-being is of concern to me. I have no objections to you having downtime, and some sort of life beyond Slaying. Having some kind of ability to release and step away from your duty at times can only be good for your long-term mental health. Which will rebound well on your ability to serve a capable and effective Slayer.” Wesley took off his glasses and cleaned them a moment, before setting them back on his face.

_Yea, keep me alive and well so you can use me as a good little Slayer. Dependable weapon of mass destruction, or whatever shit that is. Faith looked over at him._ “Still, why the fuck are you here, then?”

Wesley didn't say anything for a minute, then after clearing his throat he answered, voice lower, the somewhat lecturing tone he'd had before gone from his voice. “I, ah, came to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” Faith laughed scornfully. “Well, really, you should be -”

“Faith. I came here tonight to apologize for my...recent actions. I was in error, four days ago, when I intended to see to it that you were taken back to England for a full Tribunal.” Wesley interrupted her, his voice still soft, still not lecturing. He held up a hand before she could interrupt. “Please, allow me to finish.” After a moment, Wesley continued. “It was not because I believed you had intentionally killed the Deputy Mayor, or that you had betrayed your Calling. It was simply...protocol. But the ability to cope that you've shown since that night, your ability to retain your focus and eliminate Trick, while showing the real remorse necessary for you to move past this unfortunate accident...well, all that has indicated to me that Mr. Giles was in fact right about an investigative Tribunal not being the best thing for you.”

Wesley paused, briefly. “That being said, the Council's rules remain valid and fitting to their situation. They are not, as Mr. Giles suggested, something that can be just tossed out the window at a Watcher's whim. But it is evident that you may be something of an exception. Perhaps the one that proves the rule.”

“Riiiiiight. Wow, doesn't that make me feel special.” Faith replied derisively. 

“I am your Watcher, Faith, and you will let me finish.” Wesley didn't manage stern this time either, but without the lecturing tone, it didn't come across as pompous so much as...just a normal thing. Someone trying to sound stern and not succeeding, but not sounding like an ass. “I am not asking you to like me, and I am not asking you to respect me. Nor am I promising that I will be, by your standards, an ideal Watcher. What I am saying, however, is that you have made clear – in your actions, and attitude – that attempting to apply the protocols and rules of the Council, as valid as they may be, to you and your situation is simply not going to successful. And thus, if I am to be effective as your Watcher, I am going to have to account for that, however distasteful that may be. As I said, I have a job to do – and I intend to do it as best as I can.”

He shrugged. “And so, that's why I came to apologize this evening – for very nearly exacerbating the situation into something far worse. For whatever that is worth.”

Faith didn't say anything for a moment, “So you came to apologize for being a complete ass and nearly sending me off to Merry Old England in chains,” Giles had explained what might have happened had Wesley been able to place his call. “And that now, you're going to what, try harder to get it right? That it?”

Wesley sighed. “I wouldn't phrase it so crassly, but yes – I suppose you could put it like that.” He confirmed.

Faith took another sip of her beer, then stood from the couch. “Well, I guess I can work with that. But listen up – I'm not taking any orders from you. Or any shit from you, either. But if you're going to at least try to not be a stuck-up asshole, then you might be better than sharing a Watcher with Buffy.”

Wesley seemed about to say something in response, but then thought better of it. Instead, he stood. “Alright. I'm glad that's settled, then. I suppose I will leave you to your American beer.” He made his way towards the door and opened it. As he was standing in the doorway, halfway inside and halfway outside, Wes turned back towards her. “I, uh, ought to mention that while the Council isn't going to subject you to a full Tribunal, they will be sending a psychologist to evaluate both you and Buffy. He or she should be here within a few days; after the death of Allan Finch, the Council's main forum decided it needed some objective assessment regarding the Slayers' mental well-being. I'm not supposed to tell you until a day before the psychologist arrives, but as I'm sure Mr. Giles will tell Buffy this coming morning in the library, I thought you should know now and hear it from me – rather than from Buffy or Mr. Giles himself. I ****_am_ supposed to be your Watcher, now, after all.”

Wesley finished leaving her apartment, closing the door behind him. Faith just stared at the door for a long time, a blank expression on her face.

**February 18th, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

Mayor Richard Wilkins III was short one Master vampire.

He also had a surplus Slayer on his hands.

This was not a good combination.

The only question the Honorable Mayor of Sunnydale had in his mind was whether Trick had been dusted trying to kill Faith, or if he'd managed to keep his skin intact and was hiding out somewhere, ready to make up for his previous failure. He'd obviously not want to come back to City Hall empty-handed, after all. He had made a promise, about killing the Slayer before the night was done.

Well, the night had ended, the sun had risen, a day had gone by, and there was a brand new night just hanging over the proceedings.

Still, with any luck, Trick was still out there, attempting to fix his mistake right now. It was a pleasant thought – that at any moment, the door to his office could open and in could walk a vampire with good news, with one Slayer down. Why, Wilkins was actually tempted not to stake him anyway for incompetence, if Trick showed up now with said good news...

The door did open a few minutes later. And it was a vampire that came through. But the vampire was neither Trick, nor the bearer of good news.

“Bad news boss.” Spike said as he closed the door behind him. “Trick's dust. Just had a word with one of the survivors from last night's hunting expedition – and that useless, good-for-nothing ponce told me Faith did for him, good 'n proper.”

“Ah. So Mr. Trick is truly no more. That's...unfortunate.” Wilkins agreed. “A pity.” He set his pen back into the pen cup on his desk and considered the situation for a moment. “Very well. Miss Summers is still all yours, as we agreed, but Miss Lehane is now off limits. I think I'll have something more... personal, planned for her.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “So you're going to –? When you-?” Wilkins nodded. Spike smirked. “Gotta admit, sounds like fun.”

“I certainly expect it will be.” Wilkins agreed. “So yes, Miss Summers is free game for you, as far at that goes. Kill her to your heart's content. But leave the other Slayer alone. Is that clear?”

For a moment, Spike said nothing in response to his employer's question. Instead, he was considering the pro's and cons on the situation. He certainly wanted to kill Buffy, and fully intended to kill and drain her to bring about his Slayer hat trick. She'd fucked up his plans too many times to be allowed to get away with it. Plus she'd made a mockery of his reputation, what with that bloody deal he'd been forced to enter into last year to prevent Acathla's apocalypse, and more importantly – she'd cost him Drusilla.

Still, Spike knew it wasn't just Buffy that he'd be going up against. There were two Slayers in Sunnydale nowadays, and he didn't have the freedom to be able to kill the other one. He'd gone up against two of the bitches before, and even with them outnumbered, Buffy and that Jamaican bint had come within inches of ending his unlife.

All things considered, then – going up against both Slayers at once, even with backup, didn't exactly give Spike the warm fuzzies.

But...if one of those Slayers and the Magnificent Poof were both busy with the Mayor's big finish...well, then...

“Crystal. So do you want Buffy dead now, or can I play out the fun until the big day?” Spike's casual, malicious tone gave no sign of the thoughts he'd just had, seeming for all the world like he really just wanted to make the game last longer. 

“That's entirely your decision,” the mayor gestured magnanimously. “Take your time with her, stretch it out, kill her tomorrow. It's entirely up to you.” He wagged his finger at him, “But no turning her.” _And as for you, Miss Lehane...I wonder if Slayer will taste any different than regular high school teenager._ Of course, his tastebuds would work differently by that point, if he even had any – Wilkins wasn't entirely sure about that. It could mean no more snickerdoodles. 

_Ah well, never mind. Sacrifices are sometimes needed, after all._

“Turn her? You think I'm- Oh, heck no!” Spike recoiled a little. “No bloody way would I want to do that. You honestly reckon I'd want Little Miss Tiny hanging around  for all eternity? Not me. Not her. That's more Angelus' gig.”

“Hmm, yeas. And speaking of your grandsire,” the Mayor considered, “I assume he ended up helping the Slayers out?”

Spike nodded. “That one vamp what got away, the useless berk said that Trick and his boys had them both until Peaches showed up and messed everything up.”

“Of course. To be honest, he's getting quite troublesome...a loose cannon we don't need in Sunnydale any longer. I think we should find something to...take Angel out of commission. Something slow and painful, maybe?”

“Can't say I mind the sound of that. You've got something in mind?” 

The Mayor nodded. “I do. Granted, it'll take some time for me to get a hold of it – I don't happen to have any on hand. But once it arrives...I don't think we'll have to worry about your grandsire any longer.”

**February 20th, 1999  
Espresso Pump, Sunnydale**

Willow sat in a window booth, sipping at her coffee – decaf, honest! – and waiting for Cordelia to show up.

The problem that Cordelia had brought to her last month had been an interesting exercise. And...well, she had managed to come up with a solution, of sorts.

_And...and if Cordelia isn't happy with it, then – well, then too bad!_

Willow looked over at the clock on the wall: Cordelia was five minutes overd-

Cordelia slid into the seat across from Willow. “I'm sorry I'm late.” She said, actually sounding sincere about it.

“It's alright. I- I got here early.” Willow replied – not that that had anything to do with Cordelia showing up late...

“You said you had something – something about...” Cordy leaned in a little, lowering her voice. “Daddy's IRS problem?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I've got good news and bad news.” Willow confirmed. Not giving Cordelia a choice, she went straight to the bad news. 

Helping Cordelia or not; Cordelia being a better person now or not; Cordelia dating Xander or not...Willow wanted to see her former tormentor squirm, just a little.

It was mean, and totally not like her – but darn it, after everything from kindergarten up to the end of sophomore year? Willow felt that she'd definitely earned it!

“On the bad side, the IRS investigation is more or less over,” Willow explained, “The investigators have presented their reports and I think you can expect them to start repossessing everything by the end of the month. Once that happens, you'll lose your house and a lot of – well...almost everything else too.”

As this revelation reached her ears, one of Cordelia's hands curled into a fist, though she didn't seem to notice. Her other hand was gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles going white. As the pace of her breathing increased, the breaths themselves becoming more shallow, Cordelia could feel panic set n.

Sure...she'd known this kind of thing was coming. She'd known that the house, all her things – in the abstract, Cordelia had known what would happen when the Feds arrived on her doorstep like scavenging animals, to grab what was hers. And she'd been mentally preparing herself for it.

But still? By the end of the month? That was only eight days away! And...to actually hear it...that was different than knowing it.

Willow, for her part, was feeling a very distinct sense of schadenfreude. Yes, it sucked for Cordelia, to be thrown out of her house and lose most of her things – dresses, jewelry, shoes, whatever. Especially since it wasn't her fault that her dad was a tax cheat.

But still...it was harder for Willow to care about all that happening to 'Queen C' than it might be for her to care about it happening to someone who _hadn't_ tormented her, who _hadn't_ made her life miserable for years on end. Someone who she didn't have such a negative history with. Someone who hadn't spent so many years lording her money and status over everyone else.

However...well, it was obvious that this wasn't just a matter of losing her money to Cordelia – the distress was more than that. Willow wouldn't help but feel bad about feeling just a little happy this was happening to her childhood nemesis. Because...this misfortune, as much as it brought a few of the warm fuzzies to her heart...Willow knew that it would also affect Xander badly, since she was his girlfriend and Cordelia's entire world was being turned upside down, and they hadn't even finished high school yet!

Yes, Willow liked seeing Cordelia brought low, and liked seeing her squirm. But still...she felt a little bad for the head cheerleader, and a little bad for feeling slight pleasure about all this happening to her. 

Hey, teenager. She was _supposed_ to screw up and feel conflicted about this sort of stuff, wasn't she?

Still, at the end of the day, Willow was fundamentally a nice person – and as such, she didn't like seeing people suffer, didn't like seeing people in obvious distress. Even people like Cordelia – who really had become a much better person over the last year or so.

“On the good side, though? I couldn't manage to get control of your trust fund, or anything big like that.” Willow started, but before Cordelia's grip on the table could get any tighter, she quickly continued. “But I did manage to get some of the money in your trust fund account moved into an account that the IRS won't go after. It's listed under your middle name and your mother's maiden name, but you control the new account completely.”

Cordelia couldn't suppress the sigh of relief that escaped her lips with that second revelation. Oh, thank God... it was all she could do to stop herself from jumping out of her seat and hugging Willow – that just would have been awkward for the both of them. Instead, she settled for uncurling her fist and relaxing her grip on the table. She reached across the table and took Willow's hand in her own.

“Thank you. You're a lifesaver Willow. I mean it.” She took a breath and let it out slowly, swallowing a little. “I owe you. Big time.”

Willow nodded. “You do.” Then, as she continued talking, she started to babble: “I'd go into detail about how I did it, but then we'd be here all day.” She let herself let out a little laugh and a smile, but Cordelia didn't seem interested in the humor. “I didn't manage to get a lot.” Willow warned her, “I mean, it is a lot of money, we're not talking chump change or anything, but,” she started to babble again, “compared to how much was actually in your trust fund...and I mean, how much cash you're used to having...it's not all that much...”

“Whatever it is, it's better than nothing.” Cordelia pointed out. “Which, if not for your help, would have been all I would have had right now.” 

Already, part of the young woman's mind was set on working out what to do next. There had to be at least some of her things she could manage to save – maybe by getting them out of the house before the eviction notice? Too much and she'd end up losing it all anyway, no doubt the IRS would conduct an investigation and seize her assets if she was careless in what she tried to hide from them. But if she took a few dresses, some other clothes, a few of the cheaper pieces of jewelry, a handful of other things...Cordelia figured maybe she could keep some portion of her old life...a few of her pretty things.

And...well, she still had that credit card Daddy gave her a few years ago. She could run up all manner of charges on it over the next eight days – give the bastard even more debts to pay, and maybe abscond with a few of the things she bought. Just a few. She had no idea exactly how the IRS was going to do its 'taking nearly everything they owned' thing, but she could guess that trying to be too greedy would get her into trouble. 

Even getting as much as she could get...nothing was ever going to be a perfect solution to this...this fuck-up, was the simplest way to put it. But maybe...just maybe she could start over...if she could save enough...maybe it could be alright. Still, even as Cordelia felt a sense of hope for the first time in weeks, the sea of emotions – despair, distress, fear, nervousness...they were all still roiling within her.

“Exactly how much of my trust fund did you save, by the way?” Cordelia asked abruptly.

“Well...” Willow said hesitantly, “I could only get, uh...twenty-thousand dollars.”

Whatever Cordelia had been expecting after Willow's earlier warning...that number wasn't it. The revelation of just how little money she had left, from that trust fund...it hit her almost as hard as the earlier revelation of just how long she had, until she lost everything. 

“Only twenty thousand?!” Her voice was a little too loud, and she attracted annoyed looks from others in the coffee shop – and it only took Cordelia a moment to realize just how ungrateful her outburst had sounded. Not that the expression on Willow's face didn't help with that, because it did. Willow had probably broken the law to get her this much, and if that was what she could get...

Still, even as she realized that, Cordelia could feel the hope that had been rising in her die just a little, panic constricting around her again. Closing her eyes, she gave herself a moment. “I...I'm sorry.” Now she was speaking softly, almost too quietly for Willow to hear. She repeated herself in a normal tone. “I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't mean to sound – it's just...that's not enough for...it's not going to...I mean...that's not enough for any of the colleges that I got accepted into...”

Willow shook her head. “No...it's not. Especially not when you figure in food, and a dorm or off-campus housing and books and all the other expenses...”

“Where _can_ I go on that money?”

“One of the UC schools, maybe?” Willow suggested. “Technically, they're free for Californians, though there are fees and things that do give it some cost.” She shrugged, “But even then...you'd need to be very careful, or you wouldn't have enough for a place to live and...” Willow realized that, once again, she was babbling, and cut herself off.

Cordelia nodded. She'd have to...well, she wasn't sure what she'd have to do yet, but she'd have to see what she could find out...but... Cordelia took Willow's hand again for a moment, then stood up. “Thank you.” Before she left, she added, “I meant what I said, by the way. I owe you one, Willow. Big time.”

**February 20th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Having spotted Cordelia's car through the window, Xander was down the stairs and out the front door to greet her before she could knock or ring the doorbell.

That was when he noticed the suitcase.

Xander frowned: Cordelia didn't have any reason to bring a suitcase to his house. Even when she was planning to stay the night, she'd only ever brought an overnight bag. 

“Uh...Cordy?” He started to say, looking at the suitcase, then back to her. “You planning on moving in or something?”

Rather than answering his question, Cordelia smiled sweetly and handed him the suitcase. “Be a good boyfriend and carry that up to your room for me?”

Okay. Being asked to carry something for Cordelia – not exactly anything new. He did that all the time when she was in shopping mode. Occupational hazard of being Cordelia Chase's boyfriend. But that still didn't answer the question. “Cordelia?” He asked again. “What's going on?”

“Yeah, okay, you deserve an answer. But I'm not explaining it out here, Xander.” Cordelia replied firmly, before looking away.

Xander lifted the suitcase. “But you do plan on explaining?” After Cordelia nodded, a reassured Xander turned and opened the front door, holding it for Cordelia to go through, before following her inside.

His mom wasn't home, so luckily there were no awkward questions from the parental unit. But once they were upstairs and in his bedroom, Xander set the suitcase on the floor. Then he turned to his girlfriend who was, of all things, biting her lower lip nervously.

“Okay, now you're definitely starting to worry me, Cordy.” Xander went over to her and put a hand on her arm gently. “What's wrong?”

Cordelia opened her mouth, closed it, then started to speak: “Okay, here it is. You know how...last month, when we were in my dad's office, and we messed up the paperwork on his desk? And then we found the letter from the IRS...?”

“Yeah.” Xander nodded, vaguely recalling what she was talking about. “You told me your dad said it was just a small thing, though...?” _Though if you're bringing it up now..._ The good old Harris alarm bells were definitely ringing now. What the hell was going on?

“Yeah, but Daddy was lying through his teeth.” Cordelia said softly. “And – I knew it, even then. It wasn't a small thing...Xander, he' hasn't paid taxes in twelve years. I don't know how Daddy got away with it up until now, but as far as I'm concerned, that doesn't matter. What **_does_** matter is that the IRS is going to send him to prison for everything he's done...and what's more, they're going to repossess everything the Chase family has. As in...the house, everything in it...even my horse, Keanu. Even my trust fund...” After keeping this hidden for so long, the fear, the distress at her world being overturned, only sharing it with Willow, to try and get her help... and it wasn't like she was going to break down in front of Willow, of all people...

Cordelia wrapped her arms around her boyfriend tightly. “I'm going to lose everything – everything, Xander!” Despite herself, a few tears rose to her eyes, though she didn't break down into full-on sobbing. Still, the young woman held Xander tightly, holding onto him as if he was a life-preserver. 

“It wasn't supposed to be like this. Damn it, but I had a future, Xander!” Cordelia said softly. “We were finally going to get out of this cursed town! I got accepted to colleges – good colleges! You saw the acceptance letters I showed you!” She was speaking faster and faster now, breathing becoming shallow and quick. “I thought I had it all figured out. But then something like **_this_** happened! And – we're going to be kicked out of the house by the end of the month! Everything – my clothes, my – I -” Choking, Cordelia just held onto Xander, no more words coming onto her, the few stray tears trailing down her face and onto his shirt.

Xander noticed the tears, but didn't say anything – which was the right thing to do, as this wasn't the time to say anything even if he'd been inclined to. Instead, he just put his arms around his girlfriend, around the woman he loved and stroked her hair gently. Time to be a good boyfriend, and provide much-needed aid and comfort.

“It's -” Xander quickly stopped himself before he said 'it's alright'. Because it wasn't, not for Cordelia. “It...it'll be alright, Cordy. Maybe not now. Maybe not even tomorrow. But eventually, it'll be okay. If there's _anyone_ in this world who can pick up the pieces after something like this happens, it's you. Because you're Cordelia Chase, and if there's one thing I'm sure of – it's that Queen C can accomplish damn well anything she puts her mind to.” What Harris really wanted to do, really wanted to say, was to ask her why the hell she'd not told him about all this before, if she'd known since she'd asked her father about it...

_Of course, it's not like I have any grounds to complain, given what I've kept secret from her._

Cordelia looked up at her boyfriend. She appreciated what he was saying – and under other circumstances, she may actually have actually cracked a smile and told him that flattery would not convince her to lift the ban on sex she'd put into place just a week ago. But today...Xander's confidence in her was...well, it meant something.

“I...I went to Willow, after I talked to my dad about this.” Cordelia said softly. “I...I all but begged her for help.”

“You begged Willow for help?” Xander was stunned – he simply couldn't imagine his girlfriend begging anyone for anything.

“All but.” Cordelia clarified.

“And?” Xander asked softly. “Did she?” He wasn't sure what he expected to hear – sure, Willow was a good person, and he could see her helping Cordelia just on that...not to mention the fact that she was his best friend, and Cordelia was his girlfriend. But...well, their history, despite the fact that they'd been doing better recently...unfortunately, Xander could see Willow saying she couldn't do anything to help Cordy. That it wasn't worth risking criminal prosecution doing something like, like concealing the Chase family money in a Cayman Islands account, or whatever. 

But...was spiteful really like Willow? Xander didn't think she'd really be like that. Not at the end of the day.

“She did.” Cordelia confirmed softly. “It was probably all kinds of illegal, but...she managed to get some money out of my trust fund. Still...it's not – it's only twenty thousand dollars. And...and I know how that sounds, Xander, but...I just mean-”

“I get what you mean, Cordy. Your dad was the richest guy in Sunnydale, maybe even in all of Southern California. Out of all the money you had...if that's all you've got now to move forward with your entire life...” Not that Xander was expecting to have even that much, going forward with his life. But then, he'd not be raised around and with money his entire life, like Cordelia had. Before his father had died, the Harris family had barely been clinging to middle class by their fingernails – and while the financial situation had in some ways gotten better over recent months, Xander hadn't had any expectations of ever becoming Joe Millionaire. 

An only child, Cordelia had expected to inherit the family money, though...with good reason.

“It's just...if I want to go to college, and I **_do_**...that much money doesn't leave me many options – I mean...food, paying for a dorm, not to mention everything else...” Cordelia's voice trailed off. 

“Sweetheart? Listen to me, you still have lots of time to figure all that out.” Xander pointed out. “Graduation isn't for another three months, after all. And...in the meantime...” He nodded to the suitcase. “I'm assuming all this means you've moving out of your parents' home, before you get kicked out?”

“Of course.” Cordelia agreed. “Because nobody kicks Cordelia Chase out of anything. And I have more boxes in the car, before you ask.”

Xander suppressed a groan, knowing that he was going to be the one to carry those boxes upstairs. _Oh, what the hell._ It never even occurred to Harris that it would have been nice for his girlfriend to **_ask_** if she could move in here with him and his mother; he had no problem with Cordelia staying here as long as she needed to and wanted to – and Xander didn't think his mom would raise any concerns, either. The woman already knew that he and Cordelia had started sleeping together, and once she heard the story Cordy had just told him, his girlfriend would be welcomed with open arms.

“How many?” Harris abruptly asked.

“Just a few.” Cordelia answered. Then she added, “most of my things...there's no way I can save those. I knew better than to even try. But a few things, stuff that an IRS audit might miss? Maybe...I hope so...” She sighed. “I just don't know.”

Xander ran his hand through her hair again for a few moments. He said lovingly, “I love you, Cordy. You can make it through this, and I'll be here for you, to help you as much as I can.”

**February 23rd, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“I've been meaning to ask you a question, Mr. Giles. About Angel.” Wesley looked up from whatever it was he was writing in his Watcher diary.

Standing behind the desk, Giles finished checking back in the last book in the pile he'd been working on for the last few minutes. “I've already explained to the Council some time ago – almost two years – why Angel is-”

Wesley shook his head. “No, no, no. I'm not concerned about that. So long as Miss Summers refrains from...” Wesley flushed as he trailed off. “Well, you know. As long as that doesn't happen, I don't see a problem. He is a powerful ally, as long as his soul is present; and this is hardly the time to be rejecting any possible source of help, is it?”

“Ah – well, I suppose it isn't the time, no.” Giles sat down, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “But I wouldn't think that allowing my Slayer – or any Slayer, for that matter – to work with...and-and even date a vampire would be within protocol. Something you seem quite fond of.”

“The Council's protocols exist for a reason, and have served humanity well for centuries.” Wesley said reproachfully. “Something you seem to have forgotten. But regardless, while protocol certainly makes no allowances for someone such as Angel – vampires with souls hardly occurring to anyone – it is hardly unworkable. I will not deny that Miss Summers' nearness to a vampire with Angelus' reputation, soul or not is...unsettling.” _Especially given how much I know about that reputation._ So far as Wesley knew, Mr. Giles was not aware that one of Wesley's postgraduate dissertations while at the Watcher Academy was about the so-called 'Whirlwind' – Angelus, Darla, Spike and Drusilla. The presence of Spike and Angelus on the Hellmouth was, according to Quentin Travers, one of the reasons he had been assigned to Faith as her Watcher. 

“However.” he continued, “if there is one thing that the Academy emphasizes more than anything else – one thing the Council has always emphasized, more than anything else – it is pragmatism. Doing what one must, to make sure this world survives to seeing the next dawn. Therefore, I see no reason why Angel cannot be put to good use.”

That...calm acceptance of Angel was something Giles couldn't quite understand. Well...not anymore, not after what Angelus had put them all through last year. Curiously, Giles remembered feeling similarly about Angel before the emergence of Angelus. His reign of terror, not to mention the torture that vampire had inflicted upon him, had cured Giles of such feelings, though.

“Pragmatism? In what way is the Tento di Cruciamentum a pragmatic-” Giles was cut off by the sound of the library doors opening as Willow and Buffy walked into the Library. “Oh good, Willow.” Giles said as he saw her. “I need you to get on the computer, try to get into the Mayor's files again.”

“Okay.” Willow smiled. If she didn't succeed this time the normal way, she was planning to try one of the technopagan spells she'd picked up from Miss Calendar – basically a hacking spell. She'd avoided using it because Giles would be all stuffy and disapproving, but it had worked just fine when she'd used it to save Cordelia's money when ordinary hacking couldn't accomplish squat. And Giles was still moving too damn slowly for her liking on teaching her and Amy magic – though he'd finally moved past the pencils thing during their last session.

_Plus, I can brag to Amy about being able to do something she'd can't do._ There was a bit of a friendly competition between the two witches – so far, Amy had a wider array of tricks, though she'd shown Willow how to do that vamp-freezing trick she'd used a while ago. Now that she knew the hacking spell worked, and if she used it to get at the Mayor's files...

Well, as said, it was a friendly competition. Willow would just be able to be ahead this time. 

The computer beeped and Willow looked at the screen in annoyance. Her latest approach didn't work. _Okay, I'm using it, darn it!_

Giles must have noticed the glow and sparks that flew from her fingers and into the keyboard as she set to work. “Willow, what was that?”

“Hacking spell.” Willow answered. “Nothing else was working.”

“Hacking spell? Willow, should you really be using magic like-” Giles started to lecture, but the redhead cut him off.

“Look, Giles, I've been trying to do it your way for ages. And newsflash, but it simply wasn't working, alright?! We, we need results, and I can use the magic at a higher level than you think I'm ready for. You don't need to treat me like I'm five!” Willow raised a hand to interrupt him before he could speak. “Besides, it's done.” Willow stuck a floppy disc into the computer and let her program save the information her spell had let her obtain from the Mayor's files. 

“Well?” Giles asked a minute later, as Willow retrieved the disc. “What have you found out?”

“Nothing so far. His files are encrypted.” Willow replied, looking at the screen as it was filled with characters that looked like hieroglyphics. “Plus I don't think I got them all, but I can come back with a better idea where to look –  after I see if I can make any sense of what I did get.” She held up the disc. “I've got something on my computer at home that might work.” And there were some other people she might be able to get at least a little help from she knew – well, 'knew' over the internet, anyway – if that didn't work.

“I'm curious, actually – is it entirely safe to be hacking into the Mayor's system within City Hall through a public high school terminal?” Wesley asked, feeling somewhat concerned. Wesley wasn't an expert, or even a knowledge amateur, about computers; but unlike some of his older peers he wasn't utterly disdainful of them, either. Mostly, they'd just never come up at the Academy. Demons and vampires tended not to use them, and even most humans involved in the supernatural didn't either.

Willow shrugged. “I've gotten into all kinds of computer systems from here before. Never had any problems. And I can cover my tracks. It's all of the good.”

**February 23rd, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

Richard Wilkins was working on a speech he was set to give at the next City Council meeting, when he heard the light beep coming from within his desk. Opening the second drawer from the top, Wilkins found the glowing crystal soon enough, the small beep emitting from it every few seconds. Tapping it twice with his thumb to stop the noise, he set it back into the desk, pondering this latest development.

Like any conscientious Mayor, Wilkins had seen to it that his files and the files of his minions were well protected. Of course, he'd made the extra effort on the files closer to him, including a few layers of magical protection. Lovely inventions, computers. And to think, if he hadn't made all those deals, he'd have missed out on so many inventions!

Still, his magical network defenses had been breached, thus setting off that little alarm of his.

It wasn't very hard for him to figure out who was responsible. Obviously, one of the witches that worked with those plucky little Slayers. And, given what he knew about the two young ladies, it was fairly obvious that Miss Rosenberg would have been the one to get in and take whatever it was she'd managed to retrieve.

Hmm, the odds were at least decent that she and her group either wouldn't be able to make sense of what she'd gotten ahold of, or she hadn't gotten anything important – and the _really_ important stuff wasn't stored online, anyway. And regardless, he could make sure this never happened again. Let them enjoy their illusion of victory untouched. 

But...Wilkins was thinking he really needed to get himself better acquainted with what the Slayers and their little neighborhood watch group were up to, on any given day.

The Mayor picked up his phone and dialed a number. It only took a few rings for an answer, and a familiar, terrified voice came through from the other end.

“What?” The tone was firm, but the words still came out shaky.

_Dear me. It just isn't healthy for that girl to be so panicky all the time._ “I hope you're alone, Miss Madison. After all, we wouldn't want for someone to, well, you know-” The mayor, as always, was friendly in word and tone. There was no reason not to be. If you can't say something nice...

“Shut up!” Amy all but yelled, interrupting him.

“You're always free to hang up, or not answer the phone when I call, Miss Madison.” Wilkins pointed out, unfazed by her rudeness.

“Why can't you just leave me alone?! I've done what you -”

“Please, Miss Madison. Don't undersell yourself. I saved your life – and the lives of all your friends. Especially, after all, one Miss Lehane. You haven't paid that debt back. Your life alone is worth more than a stolen book and a dead demon, after all.”

“And how many times are you going to play that card? How long until you stop doing this to me?!”

The Mayor let himself smile a little. “I can guarantee you that as long as you keep doing me these favors, all debts between us will be cleared by the end of the coming summer.”

“ ** _What!?_** ” Amy really did yell this time. “That's still six months away!! Are you serious-”

“Now, now.” The Mayor interrupted her before she could really start on a tirade again. “I said by the end of the summer. It could be before. Though not if you keep arguing the point with me.”

“What do you want?” Amy's voice now sounded tired, more than anything else.

“Your friends – especially the Slayers. They're up to all manner of interesting things here in Sunnydale, nowadays. It occurs to me that something of interest which relates to them, may come up. All I'm asking is that you keep me informed of anything...out of the ordinary that happens, where they're concerned.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Wilkins said in amazement.

“I said no. I'm not spying on my friends for you! I don't care what you say, or what you threaten me with! If there's any line left which I won't cross, that's the one; and if you're even half as smart as I think you are, you should have known that. Go ahead and expose me if you want, but I will not go down that road for you!” A click and then, dial tone. 

Wilkins set the phone down in the cradle. _Well, that was unexpected. And gosh, much as I might like to teach that young lady a lesson on manners, I can't afford to simply throw away an asset like her. At least not yet, anyway._ Taking a pen out of its holder, Richard wrote something down on a legal pad, neatly tore the top page off, folded it into quarters, wrote a name on the outside, and murmured a few words in Latin.

The folded paper vanished.

**February 24th, 1999  
The Bronze, Sunnydale**

“So,” Amy asked as they sat down at a table in the Bronze, leaving off the dance floor for a moment, “how are the tests going?”

Faith shrugged. “Like fun. Only not. Except for the part where Wes nearly had a heart attack trying to keep up with me on the run.” She smiled a moment. “Yeah, that was worth a few laughs.” She took a sip of her Coke. She had no problem with getting her hands on beer, but not at the Bronze. They actually bothered with the whole 'Show some I.D.' thing, something that a lot of other places didn't bother with – or at least, they didn't bother _her_ with it.

“I thought you said you were going to give him a chance, after he warned you about the shrink?” Amy raised an eyebrow. She wasn't bothered if Faith had changed her mind on that, but she did wonder. Besides, when she was actually talking with Faith, or hanging out with her...

She could pretend she didn't have an axe hanging over head...

Faith shrugged again. “Yeah, but doesn't mean I won't laugh when he falls flat on his face. Anyway, enough talk about slay-business.” Not that they'd spent more than just a minute talking about it. “I don't mind doing most of the dancing when we're out on the floor, but man, Amy!” She laughed, though Amy knew her friend wasn't laughing at her.

Amy flushed just a little. “I'm just...really uncoordinated.” She knew that, and was well used to it. It didn't really bother her except that...well, in comparison to Faith? Just a little embarrassing.

“Really what you need to do is loosen up.” Faith suggested.

_Oh god has she-_ “What do you mean? I'm not wound tight!” Amy insisted, almost knee-jerk.

“I was talking about in terms of moving on the dance floor.” Faith clarified. 

“Oh...” Amy said in a small voice, flushing a little as relief flooded her. Faith hadn't noticed anything-

“Though...you really have been pretty wound tight lately. I mean – even more than you usually are, and you're pretty wound.” Faith added, considering her friend. The dark-haired Slayer hadn't known the Madison girl at all before the whole 'witch burning' thing, and hadn't gotten to know her beyond name, face and 'witch' until after the whole 'killed her own mother' thing.

And Amy had been pretty tightly wound the whole time since. Not that Faith could blame her, and it seemed like that might just be her thing in general. But yeah...she'd gotten even worse lately.

“No I'm not.” Amy insisted again, though in a much more level tone. “I'm just not...I don't know, just not as relaxed and casual as you are most of the time. Not really me.” She shrugged.

“Amy, you're always so jumpy.” Faith disagreed. She drank from her soda. “Look, I'm not complaining or whatever. Just sayin' – maybe you should loosen up both ways.” She got up from the table. “Back out to the floor?”

Amy couldn't help but laugh a little at Faith's eagerness to go back out to the dance floor so quickly. “Alright.” She got up as well. 

**March 16th, 1999  
Cemetery, Sunnydale**

The weeks had passed, but they hadn't passed quickly enough. Even with Trick dead, and with Spike seemingly not interested in picking up where his undead buddy had left off – none of the Scoobies had seen hide nor hair of him, though apparently he was still around in Sunnydale, doing who knew what, according to what they'd heard. Working for Mayor Black Hat, Faith supposed.

Amy hadn't really loosened up any, at least not in terms of not being so wound up, but at least she hadn't gotten worse. She'd considered raising the subject...but...hey, if Amy didn't want to talk about it? Not really her thing. Not really looking to force an unwanted heart to heart. At the very least, Amy seemed pretty upbeat about her magic lessons with Red and Giles. Even her Watcher was apparently doing a bit to chip in there.

Anyway, even with no one specifically out for blood beyond the usual, Buffy and Faith were usually out patrolling together, at least for part of the night. Couldn't cover as much ground that way, sure, but they sure as hell could watch each other's backs. Which to Faith's mind, was of the good.

Buffy, for her part, was letting her mind wander a bit – though carefully staying away from the subject of Angel. Eyes checking the cemetery for fresh graves, Buffy found herself considering a question about Cordelia that she'd been mulling over the last week or so. 

Namely, that Cordelia was wearing the same outfits like...more than twice a year. She'd worn really similar ones over the last couple of weeks, actually. And...things seemed different between her and Xander. Not worse, or even better, just...different. Like them arriving at school together, more often than not. Like Cordelia deliberately avoiding the popular crowd, what the hell...she was almost joined at the hip with Xander nowadays. Oh, sure, they were together, and had been for over a year. It was just...the blonde Slayer got the feeling that something had changed between them recently, even if she didn't know what.

Well, whatever. Buffy didn't spend that much time pondering her best male friend's relationship with the cheerleader, but she did notice things.

And speaking about noticing things – Buffy was pretty sure that Faith was actually, of all things, starting to actually _tolerate_ Wesley. And Wes was actually getting...well, tolerable was maybe a bit of a stretch, but he was helpful on the research front and training. Even if he was still kind of useless on the second of those two. And, the best part? Watching Giles play the 'I'm the Senior Watcher' card whenever Wes got too pompous and 'protocol' and crap, which he still did.

Too bad they still didn't know much about whatever the heck the Mayor was up to. Willow had finally cracked the code on the files she'd hacked a while back...but that was like, his daily planner and stuff like that, nothing demon-y or wig-inducing was on there.

And she hadn't been able to get back into the system either, to Willow's continued annoyance. Bummer. Well, at least Willow hadn't let that jock, Percy West, walk all over her. She'd been too annoyed from the hacking problems to simply let him order her to do his homework.

“Gotta tell you B. The willpower thing? Nice job.” It took Buffy a few moments to realize just what Faith was talking about, and she had her actual thinking come back to the now.

“Thanks.” _I really was trying **not** to think about Angel, Faith..._

“But the close, but no cigar thing with Angel?” Faith shrugged. “I don't know if I could handle, you know, the way you're not handling it.”

“Faith, when it comes to Angel, do me a favor.” Buffy was about to finish with a close to the conversation when she saw the demon, coming at them, behind Faith. “Duck!” Without protesting, Faith went down and Buffy punched the demon, sending him reeling back and against the outside wall of a nearby crypt. Both Slayers pinned him there, holding him up against the wall.

The demon moaned in pain. “What are you, nuts? Going around punching people! What's wrong with you?” Buffy and Faith didn't seem very convinced, especially once Buffy reached over and took off his hat, revealing a pair of horns to go with his vaguely inhuman face.

“People?” 

“So what, I'm a demon?” The demon kept berating them. “That makes it okay?!” Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled out her stake – Faith did so at the same time. Obviously they were on the same wavelength. The demon held up his hands defensively. “Hold it, whoa. Stake me now, and you never find out what I got for ya, huh? Think about it? Demon seeks Slayers. Highly unusual?”

“Talk fast.” Faith ordered him. _Really don't have time for a demon trying to bullshit us._

“How would you two like to get your hands on the Books of Ascension?” The last threw words came out with a sort of 'emphasis', the way people in movies about King Arthur would say 'Excalibur' or something.

“Never heard of them.” Buffy told the demon with a shrug. 

“Books of Ascension.” The demon repeated the name, as if it would ring a bell with her that didn't exist. “Very powerful works, and I'm not talking about the prose. They deal with some...dark stuff. And the Mayor would hate for somebody to get ahold before he,” the demon cleared his throat, “well you know.”

“Don't know.” Buffy corrected. “Before he what?” _Something on the Mayor? Okay, he's got my attention._

“Hey, hey, if you don't actually know? Read 'em and weep.” The demon countered. “That's all I got to say. Tomorrow, I'll bring the books. Meet me here and if the price is right, I give the books to you.” The demon pointed at Buffy and Faith.

“Not really looking to trade with a demon.” And Buffy really wasn't. _What's the going price? Heart of a virgin?_

“And if this were a barter economy, that would be a problem.” the demon agreed, facing Buffy straight on. “But I want cash, princess. Five large for the whole set.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Gonna invest in skin care products?”

“Very funny.” the demon told Faith, pointedly not laughing. “I'll be buying a planet ticket off the Hellmouth. Goodbye Slayers, goodbye Mayor.” He waved slightly. “So, what do you say? Five G's for the books?”

“Still not really jazzed about dealing with a demon.” Faith said. 

“We'll think about it.” Buffy said, stepping aside a little to let him get by them. 

“Think fast, 'cause this? Limited time offer. You can ask Willy where to find me if you decide to come up with the cash.” The demon sped between them, making the best time he could to get away from the Slayers.

“What do you think these books are about?” Faith asked, frowning. “I mean, I got me a funny feeling about this. Think he's on the up and up?”

Buffy shrugged. “Either way, he didn't strike me as the threat to humanity type. Figure we bring this to the Watcher club, see if 'Books of Ascension' means anything to them.”

“And if they do? You got five grand to spare?” Faith asked.

Buffy snorted. “Do you?”

**March 17th, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

“There's a demon I need killed – well, more accurately, there's some books that demon owns that I need in my possession. The gruesome death part is just a welcome bonus.” The Mayor told Spike, who was sitting across the desk from him. “And I need it done before he sells them to our friendly competition.” Wilkins smiled. 

“Consider him dead as a doornail.” Spike replied, getting up. He was always happy to be killing, and even happier to get out of the same room as Wilkins. Lately, the bloke never failed to give him the creeps.

“Good. Good.” The Mayor smiled. _Who knew a long-shot with a trophy would work out just so wonderfully?_ As William the Bloody walked out of the office, Wilkins grabbed a cookie from the plate on his desk and poured himself a glass of milk. Always good to have strong, healthy teeth and bones. Even if he wasn't going to have these ones for all that much longer, now, was he?

**March 18th, 1999  
Demon's Residence, Sunnydale**

Given that he'd been the one to get the directions from Willy – and had to lose twenty-eight bucks on the deal – Xander had decided to tag along for the ride, when it came to getting the demon-y books. “If you guys have to fight something, I can carry them off while you do the killing.” He'd pointed out. And the logic was unarguable, from a certain point of view.

Besides, Buffy hadn't pressed the issue, and Faith didn't seem to mind either way. The Council, in their 'glorious wisdom' had decided to not front them the five thousand dollars they'd have needed to do this the easy way. 

From the look on Wes' face, Xander had to guess even Mr. Protocol was bothered by that. Not that he was anywhere near as vocal about it as Giles was, of course. _Cheap bastards, over there in land of bangers and mash. Still, on the plus side, I suppose it's good that the Research Twins have got the Council looking into this 'Ascension' thing back in the mother country._

Be that as it may, things had been...interesting, since Cordelia had moved into la casa del Harris. Until this whole 'Books of Ascension' thing came up, Sunnydale had been pretty quiet – as had the Iron Coin, only showing him the same three visions with Cordelia, Buffy and Willow. No one else, and nothing new. So, interesting. Not. 

Living with Cordelia had taken – and was still taking – a lot of adjusting for all concerned. On the plus side, it was kinda nice having his girlfriend live in the same house as him – and sleeping in the same bed as him, every night. What the hell – after the month of celibacy hell had finally expired, he and Cordelia had almost **_broken_** his bed that evening, what with all their bedroom gymnastics. They'd woken up sweaty, sore but sexually satisfied, and Xander couldn't help wondering if this was how people who were happily married felt... 

Luckily, as he'd suspected at the time, his mom didn't raise any issues about his girlfriend living with them, once she found out that Cordelia was going to be losing her house and all her stuff. Xander got the distinct feeling that his mother had decided to treat Cordy as the daughter she'd never had - or else a future daughter-in-law, which made him kinda giddy thinking about the implications there.

But on the minus side, Cordelia...it had been a difficult adjustment for her, not having a maid, not having as much space – not having as many clothes, the missing shoes, the absent jewelry...it wasn't easy for her to get used to having so little, what with everything she'd once had now being gone. Well, thank god no one at school had found out yet, at least. The appearances had been kept up, and this close to Graduation, hopefully no one would ask the wrong questions before high school was finally over and done with.

With regard to the material things, Xander really couldn't empathize with Cordelia's loss – he'd never had all that stuff to lose it. But he could sympathize. And when her father had been carted off to jail, Cordelia...that hadn't been an easy time for her, either. How the hell that hadn't made the papers, Harris still hadn't figured out yet – and Cordy's mom was...well, Xander wasn't even sure **_where_** she was, to be honest. His girlfriend hadn't volunteered the information, and he hadn't asked.

Still. They had each other and a roof over their heads and three square meals a day, so Xander figured it would be better to let Cordy talk about her mother to him when she was ready, and not before.

As they reached the somewhat run-down building that was the home of this book-selling demon, Xander's thoughts were drawn back to the issue at hand. Without protest, he stood behind Buffy and Faith as the dark-haired Slayer approached the door...a door that clearly had already been kicked in. 

“I'm gonna go out on a limb and say the door didn't come like that.” Xander suggested.

“Ya think?” Faith walked into the building slowly, stake at the ready. Buffy was right behind her – and then the Chosen Two cursed. 

The inside of the house was absolutely _trashed_ – everything strewn about, coffee and chairs broken...and the demon from last night, dead.

From the head bent in the wrong angle, the cause of death was pretty damn clear. 

And there was no sign of the books, damn it.


	19. Episode 18: The Risks of Gloating

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

**Author's Note:** A very short chapter, by the standards for this fic. This is for two reasons – one, because Episode 18 of Buffy season 3, Earshot, would not have any significant changes in this fanfic vis-a-vis the Iron Coin's presence. Any changes of note will be touched on at the start of next chapter. The other reason is...well, this chapter is insanely overdue, and I'm just getting back into the rhythm of actually writing fanfic after an unfortunate forced absence from fic writing (the last two fic chapters I've posted had already been written and were just posted up from reserve.)

Thanks, as ever, to Starway Man, my Beta.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 18: The Risks of Gloating

**March 18th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Spike. It had to be Spike.” Buffy insisted, pacing back and forth in the center of the library. “Who else would the Mayor send to kill that demon and take those books?”

“Yes, uh, th-that would seem to be a logical possibility.” Giles agreed. “But on the other other hand, there's no reason to believe that Spike is the only vampire the Mayor has working for him.”

“To be honest, I don't think it really matters who killed the demon and stole his property, does it?” Wesley pointed out. “Either way, he's dead and the books are no doubt either destroyed or in the hands of the Mayor. Unless someone is proposing a second break-in at City Hall...”

Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“Hey, what's wrong with a little more B&E? He's the big bad – I don't think we need to care about Wilkins paying for a broken window.” Faith pointed out.

“Yeah, but since the Mayor isn't an idiot, he'd have like, what, magic guarding his stuff now, right?” Xander suggested. He'd stayed tagged along with the Slayers on the way back to the library, and was still present for the debriefing. This wasn't coin-related, but it was still a big deal. “Anyway. Has the tea and crumpets brigade back in the mother country found out anything on this 'Ascension' gig?” He asked Giles.

Giles removed his glasses and set them on the table, the only concession to the minor aggravation Xander's choice of words - well, all their word choices, at times – caused him. He was well used to their flippancy...but still. Always a little bothersome. Wesley also managed to avoid spluttering indignantly at Xander's words, but it was a much more difficult task for him, obviously.

“The Council hasn't found anything yet. But the Archives are extensive.” Giles sighed. “In the mean time, with the demon's books now inaccessible and the Mayor's files proving less useful than we'd have hoped...we, we need a new method of finding out what his plans are.”

“Spike.” Buffy said suddenly. “We can ask Spike.”

“Right. Because he's going to just cooperate and tell us, when we ask nicely?” Xander rolled his eyes.

Wesley looked from Xander to Buffy. “He does raise a point. Miss Summers, unless you're proposing torture...”

“Torture?” Buffy looked at Wesley in askance, her voice a little flat with disgust. “No! God, why would you even-”

“It's a vampire.” Faith cut in. “Nothing wrong with beating the crap out of them until they talk, in my book.”

“Well, yes, even if holy water is usually more effective, if you're in a hu...uh, never mind...” Wesley said, and then trailed off at the looks Buffy, Giles and Xander gave him. 

“Torture is off the table. It's not even in the same room.” Buffy exclaimed in her best 'I am the Slayer' voice. “This is Spike we're talking about, people. We _know_ him. And what does Spike like to do best?”

“Torture and maim people with railroad spikes?” Wesley offered.

“Screw up his evil plan of the week?” Xander answered with a laugh.

“Cosplay as Billy Idol?” Faith suggested, smirking.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “No! Talk. Spike loves the sound of his own voice! All the times we've run into one another, he never fails to mouth off at me. That guy's, like, addicted to the jibber-jabber. We just need to find him, and get him to start gloating about how we're all gonna die or whatever. Guaranteed he's gonna let _something_ slip!”

Giles put his glasses back on. “That, ah,” he cleared his throat. “That seems like a feasible plan, Buffy. But I can already see one major flaw; a-as you know, all our attempts to locate Spike thus far have failed.”

“Yeah. Well, I haven't exactly been trying that hard to find him, over the last month.” Buffy admitted. “But now, there's a good reason to try to track him down again. We _need_ to find him.”

“And you're gonna do that, how?” Xander asked. “Don't get me wrong, Buff, I'm all for the idea if it helps in the intel department; but don't you need a plan other than 'we need to find him'?” Xander shrugged. 

“Okay, so I don't have all the answers yet.” Buffy admitted. “But that's what we have to do. Figure out a way to lure him out of whatever hole the Mayor's arranged for him to hide in. Because he's the only one we know of that might have clue-one on what Wilkins is really up to.”

Faith shrugged and got up. “Well, tell me when you get an idea. Because it's late, and we're not getting anywhere just sitting around here and moaning about it.” She started towards the door.

Wesley cleared his throat hesitantly. “Mr. Giles. Might I suggest we consult all the available records on William the Bloody's past? There might be something there we can use – some indication as to what we might use to lure him out, or-”

Giles nodded in agreement, cutting him off before Wes could finish the sentence. “Yes, good idea. That could work.” He looked over to Buffy. “You may as well head off home for the night as well, Buffy. You too, Xander.” 

Xander nodded and headed out of the library, following the two Slayers outside the school before heading off home.

**March 18th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

“It's this town. It's this _damned_ town!” Cordelia almost threw the forms in front of her against the wall. 

Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, Xander looked at his girlfriend, who had taken over his desk for the evening. Walking up behind her, Harris put his arms around Cordy's midsection, resting his head on her shoulder a moment. He felt her relax slightly, marveling at how domestic the scene was. “What's wrong?” He asked softly. 

Cordelia bit back what Xander could've sworn was about to be a sob of frustration, before she turned around and looked at him. “This town- it...I can't escape it, Xander. We can't escape it! Not- not...and...” She showed him the forms – and Xander instantly understood her frustration, her mental exhaustion. Instead of getting into Stanford or whatever, she was filling out application forms for UC Sunnydale.

“Uh, well, if that's where you want to go...” Not that Xander thought it was a matter of want. Cordelia's emotional reaction just now had pretty much shredded that theory. But he had to say something.

Despite himself, for a moment Xander had felt relief when he saw his girlfriend's college application forms – even though he'd managed to keep that from showing visibly. He had come to the conclusion that he couldn't use the Iron Coin effectively from a distance – he had to stay in Sunnydale, at least for the immediate future. The incidents with Deputy Mayor Finch, and now that demon book salesman, had proved to him that if he wanted to prevent what the forces of Fate had lined up – then he was a Sunnydale boy, no choice in the matter.

Of course, once the Jester showed up to retrieve his coin – _if_ he ever came back for the darn thing, maybe better to say – then Xander figured that on that day, he'll be more than willing to leave Sunnydale along with his girlfriend. As much as he'd still want to stay to help Buffy, to help protect Willow, to help in fighting the good fight – he'd leave for Cordelia's sake. He hated seeing the woman he loved in this sort of distress, after all, so one day – maybe after Cordy graduated from college? – the time would come for them to pack their things, get into a car and finally get _out_ of Sunnyhell. 

But for now – well, at least he didn't have to worry about trying to get her to stay on the Hellmouth, if Cordy was going to UC Sunnydale after the summer....

“It's not a matter of _want_ , Xander!” Cordelia complained, drawing the young man back to the here and now and echoing his earlier thoughts. “It's a matter of what's possible. What's practical, even. Believe me – I've run the numbers. Backwards, forwards, up and down...” She started to crumple the paper in her hand, but Xander reached out his hand and gently stopped her, putting the application form back on the desk. “Like it or not, I can't _afford_ going anywhere else for college. Not when you include...I mean...food, housing, books...” She bit back another sob, this one not as well hidden. “And the only reason I'm going to be able to afford all that stuff...I mean... as long as your mother is willing to-” Her voice trailed off. 

“Mom isn't going to throw you out of the house after we graduate high school, Cor. I might end up paying her rent once I get a job and start earning some money, but you won't. My mother likes you. Hey, she told you herself how you didn't deserve...losing almost everything like that.” Xander kissed Cordelia gently, feeling her almost melt into his arms, then pulled away for a moment. “Come on. It's kinda late. Leave off that paperwork for tomorrow, or whenever.”

Cordelia looked torn. “This needs to get done, Xander.” 

“And it will. Just leave it for right now, okay? C'mon, we both know you're too worked up about it right this second – you're so pissed that you'll rip those papers into little pieces and toss 'em into the waste basket, and then have to pay for another set of forms tomorrow. Or rather I will, because hey - totally whipped boyfriend, here.”

Despite herself, Cordelia laughed, then let out a slow sigh. She nodded. “Alright. Fine. I guess for once in our lives, you're right and I'm wrong about something.” Xander pulled away from her, so she could take the lead in what they would do next. It was important, psychologically speaking. Then she said, “Let's get changed and go to bed.”

“And you have no idea just how sexy that sounds, honey.”

She sent him an imperious glare. “Sex is not an option on the table tonight, mister!”

Xander sent her back a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I knew that. I mean, do I look like a complete idiot to you? No, wait, don't answer that question. What's left of my manly pride is at stake here, after all.”

Cordelia gave him a dope slap on the head, before drawing her boyfriend in close and giving him a deep, passionate kiss that made Little Xander stand up and salute her. She instantly felt it, of course, and so gave him another slap upside the head. “God. Is _that_ all you think about?”

“Sweetheart, I'm male, eighteen and in a relationship with Cordelia Chase. You do the math.”

“Yeah, well, you get that tent in your boxers under control while I go to the bathroom, mister. Like I said, you're _not_ getting lucky tonight.” She paused. “Maybe tomorrow night, depending on whether I finally send off those college application forms.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

A few minutes later, they were in bed, Xander's arms around her once more. 

“I love you.” Xander whispered in her ear, softly. He said it every night, whatever else.

“I love you too.” Cordelia murmured back, as they both drifted off to sleep.

**March 19th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“Mr. Giles, you can read the passages yourself. I've marked down which volume and page they're on, right here.” Wesley handed a legal pad to the older Watcher, who took it, looking over the list. “The evidence speaks for itself – our best, possibly our only, way to draw Spike out is with Drusilla.”

“Wesley. According to Willow, Spike claimed that he and Drusilla had, ah, broken up, as it were.” Giles pointed out. “Thus, I'm not convinced that's a viable option – even if we had her on hand. Which we don't.”

“Yes, I'm well aware that they've separated – the latest reports from the Council place Drusilla somewhere in Brazil, at the moment. But this isn't the first time those two have gone their own way over the past century or so, and it won't be the last, assuming they both survive long enough for it to matter.” Wesley produced another legal pad, with more specific passages listed. “By all accounts, they've separated, or broken up, or however you wish to put it, at least a dozen times since the 19th century. Usually for no longer than a few months, but still. I suspect that if Spike hadn't taken up with the Mayor, he'd have gone off to find his sire – and they'd be rampaging through Rio de Janeiro together, right at this very moment.”

Giles considered checking the passages – and he no doubt would, soon enough, but Wesley's skill at cross referencing outstripped even his own considerable ability. So he decided to accept the junior Watcher's word on the matter; Rupert didn't doubt the other man's findings, on this at least. 

“Fine, I take your point. But we're still one Drusilla short of bait for a trap, as you know.”

“And why is this a problem, practically speaking? All we need is for Spike to _believe_ that Drusilla is here in Sunnydale, after all. We don't need her to actually be here.”

Giles was about to point out the obvious issue with that – that Spike would see the trap for what it was – when Buffy walked into the library. The blonde Slayer saw the slew of open books, notebooks and legal pads strewn across the room, on every available surface. “Wow. Research party, anyone? Were you guys up all night?”

Giles shrugged. “Wesley was, despite my urgings. I've only just gotten here.” He had stayed up helping Wesley for a few hours before heading back to his flat for a few hours' sleep, but the younger man had decided to keep going on his research. Giles was somewhat surprised not to have found Wesley asleep with his face planted in an open book when he'd walked in, not twenty minutes ago; he'd done it himself, often enough.

“So, talk to me. Did you find anything, come up with any ideas?” Buffy asked the man who was officially Faith's Watcher.

Giles started to shake his head – Wesley's idea was half-formed at best, in his view – but the other Watcher interrupted him. “Yes. An idea, at any rate.” 

“What is it? How do we lure Spike out of wherever he's hiding?” Buffy set her bag down on a chair for the moment.

“Drusilla.” Wesley answered. 

That one word answer made Buffy pause, and stare back at the Englishman. “Drusilla? Drusilla, as in the gaga-crazy ex-girlfriend that broke up with Spike in South America, and that tried to end the world last year?” Buffy knew she really didn't need to ask, but if Drusilla was back in town...

“Miss Summers, I've been delving into their history in detail for most of the night. And when it comes to Drusilla, Spike's general willingness to keep a long-term plan going is tossed out the window. And further, more than once they've broken up on acrimonious terms, and later gotten back together. If Spike thinks Drusilla is in town and looking for him, I feel certain he'll surface – he'll start looking for her openly. The damned creature simply won't be able to help himself.” Wesley rubbed at his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. 

“Well, maybe. But he'll see 'trap' coming a mile away.” Buffy pointed out, after mulling the idea over. “Spike's not an idiot, whatever else he is. You think he's really going to show his face if we let him know we have Drusilla stashed somewhere, and he just needs to come and get her?”

Wesley shook his head. “He might see the trap, yes, especially if we tried something so obvious. The thing is though, Spike is atypical for a vampire in that he truly does love Drusilla – or at least, what passes for love among the undead, anyway. He'd most likely walk into a trap in order to save her, though perhaps not without trying to stack the deck in his favor beforehand – ambush the ambushers, as it were.” Wesley waved a hand in front of him, flicking his wrist a little to the side. “But that's neither here nor there, of course. I'm not proposing that we start boasting that we've captured that demented madwoman, in order to lure Spike out of hiding. All we need to do is get the word out that Drusilla is here in Sunnydale, looking for him.”

“And he'll come out of whatever hole he's hiding in to find her, huh?” Buffy finished his thought, a thoughtful expression on her face. _It could work_ , she thought to herself, trying to calculate the odds. _Wes is absolutely right about Spike's feelings for that undead ho, if nothing else, and if he thought she was in danger..._

“That's the idea, anyway. We still won't know where he's hiding, but assuming either Faith, Angel or yourself is lucky, you'll run into Spike – and as we were discussing last night, goad him into letting some kind of information slip.”

“In theory, anyway.” Giles cautioned. “It won't do to pin all our hopes on Spike being overly talkative – however likely that might be.” He added, at the look on Buffy's face. “Further – well, how exactly do we make sure that Spike hears about Drusilla supposedly being in Sunnydale?” He looked to Wesley, who all but shrugged. 

Buffy, though, simply nodded. “I have an idea.”

**March 19th, 1999  
Willy's Alibi Room, 1999**

The clientele of the demon bar were, unfortunately for Willy's profit margin, well used to the Slayer storming into the establishment by now. Two-odd years with the Slayer on the Hellmouth had a tendency to make her show up here for information...

_And she doesn't even pay!_ Willy had earned his moniker 'the Snitch' the old fashioned way – by selling information to people who wanted it. By contrast, Buffy, her boyfriend Angel and that psychotic other Slayer preferred to just beat the information out of him or his bar, if simple threats didn't do it. It had been something of a refreshing change for the Slayer's friend to actually pay him for information the other night. That Harris guy, or whatever his name was.

Willy set the glass in his hand down – no sense in having it break when she decided to hit him – and looked back up to see the blonde Chosen One standing right in front of him. “Sheesh. What do you want now?” Willy demanded, in a resigned tone of voice.

“You can tell Spike -” Buffy started, her tone a perfect mask of controlled anger.

Willy held up a hand, “Hold on there, Slayer. I thought we already covered this. I don't know where Spike is hid-”

Buffy cut him off, raising a fist. “You don't need to know where he is to make sure he gets my message.” Willy started to speak again, but Buffy trampled forward. “Shut up and listen, Willy. You tell Spike that if I see his psycho girlfriend out in the open again, she's dust in the freaking wind! Got that? She's lucky I was distracted with a whole bunch of other things in Restfield Cemetary to kill, earlier tonight – but if I see her again, I swear I'll chase her up and down Sunnydale until I finally ram Mr. Pointy through her heart! I haven't forgotten how she killed Kendra, so you tell Spike that Faith and I will be out gunning for that crazy bitch's ass to avenge her murder. See how much he likes losing one of his, like I lost one of mine!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a second, kid.” Willy held up a hand again. “Now, let's take it from the top. Are you seriously telling me that _Drusilla_ is back in town?” If it was true, it was odd how he hadn't heard anything about this on the grapevine before now. Psychotic vampires of Drusilla's caliber didn't just show up in town without making some kind of splash, after all. _Looking_ for Spike? Unlike whatever Buffy was assuming, Willy knew that those two vamps weren't in the same place anymore – last he'd heard, Drusilla was somewhere in Venezuela, still hanging out with that Chaos Demon she'd dumped Spike for.

“Didn't you just hear me say that?” Buffy made to reach across the bar to grab the front of Willy's shirt, but the man stepped back just in time. But that didn't stop Buffy. She knew she had to drive the point home – and she really didn't have to do much to fake her anger.

The Mayor and his plan – whatever the hell it was – was the reason why the police in Sunnydale were so useless – and over half the time, made doing her job even harder. Strike one. He'd built Sunnydale just to accommodate vampires and demons, with the way he'd had the sewers and tunnels underneath the city built. Strike two. And now Wilkins was playing host to Spike, who seemed to exist just to piss her off. Strike three. _And Mayor Richard Wilkins I, II and III is **out**._

Buffy reached further forward, grabbed the front of Willy's shirt and lifted him off the ground with ease. “Don't screw around with me on this one, Willy, I'm warning you. You make sure Spike gets the message. 'Cause next time I see Drusilla, I drop everything else I'm doing and personally make her dust. If Spike's too much of a coward to crawl out of whatever hole he's hiding in and fight me head on, then I'm willing to kill his crazy girlfriend instead. Like I said; revenge for Kendra, if nothing else.” She let her control slip just a little, the anger – though not as much directed at Spike as she was letting Willy think – showing even more in her voice. Then she lifted Willy a few more inches off the ground. When she finally left him go a moment later, the bartender fell to the ground in a heap, though he was back on his feet again within a few seconds. “Got it?”

Willy crouched down to grab an icepack from the mini-freezer beneath the bar. “Yea, yea, Slayer. I got it.” He told her once he was back to standing up straight.

“Good.” Buffy turned and left – making sure to slam the door hard enough to make it fall off its hinges.

“Oh, _come_ on Slayer!” Willy protested as she vanished from view.

**March 20th, 1999  
Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale**

“Well, shit.” 

Spike looked at Angel, who was standing not ten feet away from him, only two headstones between him and his grandsire. 

“Dru's not back in town, is she?” Kind of a redundant question, Spike knew. He'd had to try to find her – fool for love that he was. That was his role in the grand theater of life, Spike sometimes thought. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, but with Drusilla's safety at risk... 

“Nope.” Angel confirmed. “I didn't really believe you'd come out of whatever hole you'd crawled into, Spike, once you heard the rumor. But still, here you are.”

“It's Dru, mate. You wouldn't understand. You never _did_ understand just what it was we had together.” Spike replied. He moved a little to the left, aiming to circle around Angel as soon as he got an opportunity. Angel moved to his own left, in a mirror of the other vampire's movements. Hardly surprising; both of them knew the other too well for this to be a simple fight. 

“I suppose the real question is, where are the Slayers?” Spike's eyes moved around the area, looking for escape routes. If either – or worse, both – of them bints were in the area, he wasn't even going to bother fighting it out. So he needed an out.

“Oh, they're probably around here somewhere, looking for you. Shouldn't take them long; your hair tends to make you stick out like a sore thumb. Looking radioactive the way it does, I'm just surprised it doesn't glow in the dark and _really_ make you stand out.” Angel realized just how childish that sounded, but – there was just something about Spike that drew out the petty and spiteful in him. Just as it had for Angelus. He imagined that if _both_ of them somehow had souls, he'd still throw out the spiteful remarks to his former protege. He just couldn't help himself. 

“As opposed to your hair, which just looks like it belongs on a complete sodding nancy-boy? So, not very out of place, I suppose.” Even as they both threw these petty insults at each other, the two vamps were moving, circling, angling for an advantage. Angel saw Spike's eyes on a nearby crypt. One that they both knew had sewer access. So Angel moved, trying to keep himself squarely between the crypt and Spike.

Before Angel could come back with something else – indeed, even as his mouth opened to offer a retort, they both heard Buffy's voice coming from somewhere behind Spike. 

“Wow. Were you two planning to do the whole insult thing all night?” Buffy asked them, as Spike stepped aside so that he was standing parallel to Angel, rather than facing him head on, able to see both the Slayer and his grandsire. That crypt was still his best bet. 

Buffy looked at Spike. “So, you really were that stupid. Couldn't you tell it was like obviously an attempt to get you out into the open?”

“Yeah, I figured it probably was. But then, you'd do something exactly that stupid in order to save Peaches here, luv. As I recall, you did. Wasted time restoring his soul, when the whole bloody world was going to end. Never did thank you properly for that.” Spike laughed. 

“Save your thanks.” Buffy and Angel both moved closer to him, still between him and the crypt. Spike figured he could probably outrun the both of them, if he went all out, but that was risky. 

“So now what? We fight, you fail to dust me and I get away?” Getting away from this fight wasn't something Spike was too worried about. But if they _chased_ him...located his new lair...he'd need to find a new spot to wait out the next two months, until the Mayor's big finish. And Wilkins probably wouldn't like that.

“No,” Buffy disagreed. “I was thinking more along the lines of shoving a stake in your heart, and then finally being rid of you.”

“You don't really think it's gonna be _that_ easy, do you? Haven't gotten rid of me yet.” Spike pointed out.

“Haven't had as much of a chance as I'd like, the last few months.” The distance between Buffy and Angel and Spike was shrinking, despite Spike's efforts to keep them at a distance. It wasn't a straight line, either – Spike was still trying to circle around towards the crypt. “What's it like to be the big bad vamp, Slayer of the Slayers, and you have to hide from little old me?” She spared a glance towards Angel. “I'm not that scary, am I?”

“If the boss didn't have plans for you, Betty, you and I would have had it out a while ago.” Spike countered. “I'm still planning on getting my hat trick, y'know; bagging myself that third dead Slayer.”

“Oh?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, then suddenly, with a burst of movement, lunged at Spike. The vampire sidestepped her, but now she was all but next to him, stake in hand. “And what plans exactly does Wilkins have in mind?” 

“You really think I'm gonna tell you?” Spike kicked at her, but Buffy easily avoided his attack. Angel seemed to be standing back for the moment, willing to let Buffy handle Spike. _Of course. All he needs to do is stop me from getting to that bloody crypt, the sodding poof..._

“Don't really need you to.” Buffy punched him, and Spike caught it on the side of his arm. It would bruise, but it gave him just the opening he needed to get his leg behind hers. Buffy stumbled, staying on her feet, but Spike used that to open up the distance between them. Much as he wanted her dead – not yet. Then Buffy said, “I figure the reason the Mayor wants me alive is to kill off all the demons and vampires in town who might be a threat to him, before he can pull off whatever he's planning. Am I close?”

“In the neighborhood,” Spike confirmed with a shrug. “But don't go thinking you've got that much longer, ya dumb bint. 'Cause you don't.” Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw a tree close enough to jump to. He just needed one moment of distraction... 

“And how long do I have?” Buffy quipped, back on solid footing and once more making a move at him. Spike evaded and grabbed onto the tree, using it to leverage himself further away. It was only as he broke into a run towards the crypt that Angel finally moved. Spike climbed as he ran onto a headstone and jumped to another, at no risk of losing his balance as he evaded the other vampire. Barely.

They were both close behind him when he got into the crypt. Buffy grabbed onto his duster, but Spike turned around and hit her arm, knocking her hand loose – at the cost of a kick to his leg. Another bruise, that. Spike got a stone coffin between himself and the two. 

Angel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “So that's it, then? Run away again?”

“Oh, don't worry, mate. You'll both get yours on the big day. Come Sunnydale's hundred birthday, she's dead – and you're dust!” Spike dove down into the sewer, taking an alternative route. He didn't realize they weren't chasing him until a few minutes later.

Up top, Buffy looked to Angel. “Sunnydale's Hundredth anniversary? When is that?” Buffy didn't know offhand the date of Sunnydale's foundation. But she knew it was sometime this year, for the hundred...

“If I'm not mistaken,” Angel answered, “I think its your Graduation Day.”


	20. Episode 19: The Blackmail Box

**Disclaimer:** I own the Iron Coin, the Jester, etc. I don't own all the stuff you recognize from the show.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

This chapter was a long time coming. I've had parts of this thought out well in advance, and it's also been difficult to actually get right to my satisfaction. That's most of the delay for this one. I probably could have had it out a bit sooner, but this chapter really needed to be as good as I could get it.

The Iron Coin Chronicles Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 19: The Blackmail Box

**April 3rd, 1999  
Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale**

The last thing Buffy needed, between impending doom from the Mayor on her Graduation Day and her regular patrols here on the Hellmouth, was one more mystery. But Xander's mysterious...informant, or whatever it was that was giving him those little flashes of insight at all the right moments...that remained one. And as much as she trusted Xander – and she did, she really did...

Well, as far as Buffy Anne Summers concerned, there were still too many unanswered questions where the 'informant' was concerned. 

Like, why didn't this person send any information about whatever it was the Mayor was up to, with this 'ascension' thing? If he/she/it couldn't, then why? And how? And why Xander? Too many questions. Things didn't add up – she just...

When that mouthless demon had infected her with its aspect, the telepathy, she'd thought, 'hey, I can _finally_ get a lead on Xander's mysterious information source!' But instead...she'd gotten nothing. Xander's mind had been as closed and unreadable as Angel's...and as far as everyone else was concerned, there wasn't much else of interest to learn along the way. 

After all, she hadn't needed telepathy to know that Wesley disliked Giles and was full of himself, or needed it to know Oz was the proverbial deep thinker. And...well...she definitely _hadn't_ needed to hear Giles thinking about having sex with her mom on the hood of a police car. 

Not to mention hearing Joyce think that her Watcher was like a stevedore, both times they'd done it that night. 

The blonde Slayer inwardly cringed at _those_ visuals appearing in her mind's eye, and no freaking wonder.

After it was all sorted out – after the lunch lady's plan to poison the students and Jonathan's suicide attempt had been stopped...she'd confronted Xander about it in private. His answer had been...unsatisfactory...

“Well, if I can't tell you directly about....this, I guess it figures that the-” before he'd been able to go further, Xander's voice had cut out, as if he were a television on mute. 

“The what? And figures what?” Buffy had demanded, her patience non-existent after the horrible ordeal she'd undergone. 

Xander had thrown up a hand in frustration – at her terse tone, or something else. “I'm sorry, Buff. I can't tell you – or anyone else – what you want to know. You _know_ that. So I can't _think_ it at you, either...makes sense, anyway.”

“Makes sense? How does _any_ of this make sense!?” Buffy remembered how much frustration she'd had at that moment – at everything. But...even then... Her next words were more calm, “Sorry. I- I'm...”

“Naw, Buffy, it's fine. After the last few days you've had? Totally understandable. And I get how much it's bothering you that I can't tell you anything. I certainly wish I could. I really do.” He'd sighed, “But I can't. And hashing it all out again now won't help anyone.”

“Do you know anything else?” Buffy normally wouldn't have asked – but she was just...

Xander had shaken his head, “No. Nothing...useful I can tell you. Nothing helpful...” 

“But you know _something_ , right?”

He'd just shrugged, “Something. I can't tell you – just...keep an eye on Willow. Keep watch on her.”

“What? Why? What's that supposed to mean?” The demand had been automatic. Nonetheless Buffy had, ever since, kept an eye on Willow, as best she could. 

“To be honest, I'm surprised I could even tell you that much.” Xander had told her, with a surprised look on his face. “Look – that's all I've got. I'm sorry.” 

Sighing, he'd then turned and walked away. And Buffy had had to concede the point, then. Xander wasn't going to tell her anything else – and...

Well, that was that. Much as it rankled, Buffy hadn't forgotten the 'warning' Angel had been given when he'd attempted to spy on Xander at his house, and she had no desire to be struck blind that way. Or something even worse.

The Slayer turned her mind from those events and back to the situation at hand. She was here to be on patrol, not to ruminate on the mysteries that were currently surrounding her best male friend. Fortunate timing to return to the here and now, as it turned out. Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw the soil in front of a headstone start to lift and move – a vampire was on his way out of the earth.

_Well, back to work._

**The Library, Sunnydale High  
May 3rd, 1999**

“I've been trying to hack into the Mayor's network again.” Willow explained to the assembled Scoobies, a month later. “But I haven't been able to get in since that time back in March... so I've given up there.”

“That seems ill-advised, given the urgency of the situation. There still hasn't been any sort of revelation on what is meant by this 'ascension' business.” Wesley pointed out, starting to puff himself into 'important mode'. “And if whatever the Mayor's final plan is really is going to come to fruition on the hundredth anniversary of Sunnydale's founding, then we're rapidly running out of-”

“I said I gave up there.” Willow interrupted, already sick and tired of Wesley's lecturing. “I didn't say I gave up on trying to get something we could use. So I went back to the information I did manage to get the first time – it was just a digital daily planner, sure, but I think I've figured something out.”

“What?” Faith cut in before Willow could continue. “What did you figure out?”

“Perhaps you could let her tell us, Faith.” Giles pointed out, before looking back to Willow.

“Okay, here it is. The Mayor is getting a delivery at the airport, tomorrow night. I didn't pay much attention to it the first time I went through it – but after I looked at it again, I noticed something. Whatever it is that's coming, he's paying several million dollars for it.”

“And that's probably taxpayer money, the bastard!” Xander exclaimed, smiling for a moment. 

“So we can add embezzlement to working with vampires, demons, and who knows what else.” Cordelia laughed sharply for a brief moment. 

“I suppose we can.” Giles agreed dryly, “But if this really is something important to the Mayor, then this may be a golden opportunity for us, so to speak.”

“I agree, absolutely.” Wesley nodded, “but it isn't necessarily one we should jump at blindly. We have no idea what kind of resources the Mayor will be bringing with him to take custody of this item, or if he'll even come himself. He may just send Spike and a team of vampires to bring it to City Hall.”

“All the more reason to get in there and grab it for ourselves. Dusting Spike will just be half the fun.” Buffy said, that uncharacteristic viciousness where it came to William the Bloody back with a vengeance. She looked over to Faith. “Feel like nabbing the Mayor's package?” 

Faith smiled, “I'm always up for taking stuff from the bad guys.”

“But we don't even know what this thing that's arriving is!” Wesley protested. “It could be too large to transport by hand, or, or it might not even be an object. It could be a person, or a demon, or some kind of animal.”

“And?” Buffy countered with a frown, “Look, whatever it is, this is a chance for us to get proactive about the Mayor. Deprive him of something he wants, and is willing to pay big bucks for. Otherwise, our only choice is to just sit around waiting for whatever he's got planned on Graduation Day, and I'm not going to do that. Damn it, Wes, there's only a few weeks left to go - we have to _do_ something!” 

“She's got a point.” Oz suggested from the edge of the group, looking over at them all. 

Wesley looked about to protest further, but not even Giles seemed to be on his side here. So shaking his head and biting his tongue, he said nothing more. 

“You should be careful, however. Both of you should go.” Giles said to Buffy and Faith. “Angel can cover the normal patrol schedule for tomorrow night, until you're done with retrieving whatever is arriving.”

“Alright with me.” Faith shrugged. 

“In the meantime, most of you have classes to get to.” Giles gestured to the rest of the Scoobies as the bell rang, and they all quickly departed Slayer Central.

**Outside Lunch Area, Sunnydale High  
May 4th, 1999**

“She was acting like I'd already decided to go!” Buffy explained to her friends how her mother had reacted to the news that she'd been accepted into Northwestern. “It's not like it was the only college I got accepted into, and she's off calling Aunt Arlene like I'm going to be moving next door or something!” 

“Sounds like she's got her heart set on Northwestern for you.” Oz commented, sagely.

_Doesn't surprise me_ , Xander thought to himself, seeing the expression of Buffy's face. _Mrs. Summers wants her daughter out of this town, I've known that for months now. Too bad how Buffy's mom simply can't accept that no matter where she goes, her little girl's still gonna be Slaying vamps and demons till the day she dies..._

“Which doesn't work – I mean, I'm the Slayer. I've got to stay here in Sunnydale...” Buffy trailed off, hesitantly.

Despite her tone, Xander wasn't sure if it was her mother Buffy was trying to convince, or herself. A normal life – at least as much of one as she could manage – had always been an important goal for the Buffster. And Northwestern was a good school. _Whereas I have no way to go to college, and minimal job prospects. Which sucks, granted, but hey; one problem at a time. Hafta survive Graduation first, after all._

Still, his post-graduation plans were rather lacking at this point. His road trip fund was starting to run low, and besides...given how things were with Cordelia...he didn't want to go off alone and find himself a la Jack Kerouac. Couldn't, either – the Iron Coin...

Besides, he was doing plenty to find himself here in Sunnyhell.

“It sounds like your mom's living in the state of Denial.” Willow said.

“More like a whole continent,” Buffy disagreed. “She just needs to realize that I can't go.”

“Why can't you?” Cordelia asked. Everyone looked at her – she'd been quiet during the entire college discussion. Xander knew why, and given Willow's role in helping her get a fraction of the money from her trust fund, she obviously knew why as well. But as far as Xander knew, Oz and Buffy didn't have clue-one about Cordelia's situation – that she was going to go to UC Sunnydale next fall, out of sheer necessity.

“I mean,” Cordelia elaborated in her usual blunt fashion, “Faith's here, and she can keep a lid on things – apocalypse season always tends to come around the end of the school year, anyway. So if you're lucky, you could come back from Illinois just in time to save the world again. And breaks too.”

“Wait, you noticed that too?” Willow asked, looking at Cordelia, “I thought I was the only one who'd picked up on that.” She giggled a little, “I was just thinking that if it happened again next year, I could start setting my watch by them.”

“She has a point, though,” Xander wasn't sure what he thought of the idea of Buffy going off to college away from the Hellmouth. But Cordelia was right, “I mean, seriously Buff; Sunnydale did fine with just you for over a year.”

“When you were here,” Cordelia cut in, just a touch of acid in her tone. 

“So do you think I should leave or not, then, if you're so interested in bringing up my absences?” Buffy demanded, all but glaring at Cordelia. Xander winced a little – Buffy did not like being reminded of last summer...for good reason, perhaps. She'd had her repentance for it, in his mind, but Cordelia liked to bring it up from time to time.

“It's up to you. I was just pointing out the facts.” Cordelia replied, unfazed by Buffy's glare. 

“Well, the situation is pretty different now.” Xander pointed out, hoping to prevent an argument. “Cordelia does have a point about Faith being here, though.”

“Yeah, but I can hardly just up and leave on her.” Buffy protested. “Can I?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Oz replied. “With you gone, Faith could always stay at your house.”

Willow laughed, “That way she can freeload off of your mom, and Mrs. Summers can have someone else to worry about. She won't get empty nest syndrome or whatever.”

Buffy couldn't help a laugh at Willow's words. “Actually, that could work. I do sometimes wonder what she'd be like, if Mom didn't have me around to do the whole backseat mothering deal.” It had gotten better after her mother had learned of – and accepted – the fact that she was a Slayer...

But now, this whole gushing-over-Northwestern thing was making Buffy wonder whether maybe her mother really hadn't accepted that being a Slayer wasn't some sort of...phase. It was, and always would be, her life. For however long it lasted, anyway. Angel's words 'Let's get you to fifty' from last night suddenly echoed in her head...

“Okay, enough about me and my mom's wig-worthy fixations. What about you Will, getting accepted into Oxford?”

**Private Airstrip, Sunnydale Airport  
May 4th, 1999**

Buffy and Faith watched from the wall separating this part of the airport from the rest of it as a small plane landed on the runway, speed dropping off as it eventually taxied to a stop. 

“Whatever it is, can't be that big.” Buffy muttered. She saw a limo waiting, with two vampires standing outside close by. 

“Where's Spike, then?” Faith asked, though not of Buffy specifically. “Figured the Mayor would've wanted his number one errand boy handling this one personally.”

“Maybe he's in the limo?” Buffy suggested. She then saw a man with a strange-looking facial tattoo step out of the airplane, holding a box as big as – if not bigger – than his torso. “Bingo. It's got to be in that. Whatever it is the Mayor wants.”

“Then let's go get it.” 

Faith made to drop over the wall onto the tarmac, but Buffy put a hand on her shoulder and prevented her from doing so. “Wait-” 

She pointed out into the darkness – only a small portion of the landing strip was well lit, but they could see out past those lights to a point. “Call me crazy, but I don't think this is a special delivery gig anymore.” Three humanoid shapes were coming around from behind, as the rear door to the limo opened and Spike stepped out, looking at the man with the box.

The man spoke, making no effort to speak quietly, which allowed the two Slayers to hear what was being said as they dropped over the wall, stakes in hand. 

“Who are you?” The man demanded of Spike, and then looked to the other two vampires. If he was worried about being outnumbered, he didn't show it. 

“The name's Spike, mate. Mayor Wilkins sent me to pick up the box, and pay you.” The blonde vampire reached into his leather duster and pulled out a thick envelope. “Here ya go. I reckon you'll find-”

“The Mayor was supposed to be here, in person.” The man with the box interrupted, voice flat. “Which means the price has just gone up. I don't like surprises.”

Buffy watched as Spike smirked. “Well, sodding hell. I was _so_ hopin' you'd say that!” He gestured to the three vampires coming from behind, which had gotten close to the delivery man. “Kill him.”   
The man with the box didn't take the attack lying down. He spun and kicked out at one of the vamps, sending him falling into a second minion. The third vampire lunged for him, but the box carrier stepped back from its reach – only to walk right into Spike's grasp. Before the courier could react, Spike had his hands on the man's head - and then, with a twist and a sickening crack, the man was dead.

He turned with a smirk, “'ello Slayers.” He reached down and grabbed the dead body by the back of his shirt – and lifting the box along with the body, a handcuff connecting the man to his cargo. “Thing is, I'd love to stay and chat, but-” 

He didn't get a chance to finish before Buffy and Faith both ran at him – but two vampires got in their way. Not enough to be a threat to either Chosen One – they could go through ordinary vampires pretty easily by this point. Quickly, the two were dust – but not quickly enough.

While they'd fought, Spike had opened the limo door and tossed the dead body and the box inside, jumping in after it. Almost in unison, Buffy and Faith pulled their stakes from the collapsing vampires but the car was already in motion – even at Slayer speed, neither managed to get onto the car – hood, roof, anything – before it was out of their reach, breaking at least a dozen traffic laws and airport driving regulations on its way back to City Hall.

The whole episode – from the death of the courier to the vanishing car, had taken less than two minutes.

“Well, fuck.” Faith muttered, her tone almost entirely annoyance at losing a fight. But for Buffy...

_This is my ticket out. Stopping the Mayor – an option to get out of Sunnydale, go to Northwestern. Or anywhere else,_ she supposed. That was the deal she'd made with Giles, and herself – the possibility of her relocating for College, coming back during the breaks... 

Wesley had been, as one might expect, vehemently opposed to the idea; but as Giles had pointed out (with no small measure of visible enjoyment) Wesley's opinion on the matter didn't really matter. It was perhaps a sign of the change in the younger Watcher's mindset since his arrival in town that he'd not threatened to call the Council on the issue (as their opinion did matter, at least as far as Giles' career was concerned). 

'Regardless,' Giles had said, 'any discussion of you departing Sunnydale for university studies does have to wait until you actually graduate.'

'I'm aware that my graduation could be posthumous,' Buffy had replied, 'but if I make it through?'

'We'll have to see then – I'm not saying no, Buffy.' Had been his reply.

“We can't just let him have it. We don't even know what was in that box.” Buffy said, angry at the Mayor once more, for everything he'd set in motion here in Sunnydale – the revelations about his age, that he had something _horrible_ set up for Sunnydale's hundredth anniversary... Giles and Wesley were both convinced that whatever Wilkins had had planned, setting up a town on a Hellmouth to attract vampires and demons to feed on its population was a key part of it.

That left a lot of death at the Mayor's feet, even if indirectly. _And now he has his damn box._

“Well, he's got it. Unless you're suggesting another break and enter into City Hall to take it.” Faith pointed out, lighting up a cigarette.

“That's exactly what I'm suggesting.” Buffy said, before frowning. “You don't think we should?”

Faith shrugged, “Hey, I'm all for a little larceny. But if we go in there right now, odds are that Spike guy will be waiting for us. Figure we should target the weakest link, first.”

**Library, Sunnydale High  
May 4th, 1999**

Amy looked up as the doors to the library opened and saw Buffy and Faith walk in – Faith looked fairly nonchalant about everything, as she usually did. Probably the only time Amy had seen Faith not nonchalant – at least, not acting really well at it – had been that night...well, early morning – after she'd killed the Deputy Mayor, in that alleyway.

The hours long circular 'conversation' they'd had, as Faith had tried to work through what she'd done...

But apart from then...Faith didn't seem to let much bother her...'seem' being the key term, though Amy couldn't know for sure.

Buffy, on the other hand, looked furious – not at Faith, or them...just...furious. Pissed off at the world, or maybe the Mayor, or Spike? Faith had filled her in on the details over the phone when she'd called her, to get her to join the rest of the Scoobies here in the library.

“It's called the Box of Gavrock.” Buffy said, looking at Giles. Without missing a beat, the British man made for his books, pulling several off the shelves, handing some to Xander, Wesley, Oz and Cordelia. “The limo driver didn't know much, but he did say that it holds some kinda demonic energy that the Mayor needs to chow down on before his 'Ascension'.”

“And then he decided to take on two Slayers.” Faith added with a laugh. “Had to stake him, so that's all we got.”

“He also mentioned the box was gonna be stored in the conference room on the top floor, or at least that's where he and Spike had been given orders to take it.” Buffy pointed out, not sharing Faith's amusement at the vampire's stupidity. She nodded at Willow and Oz, rolling a set of large papers out onto the central table. “The plans?”

Willow nodded, “Found them in the Water and Power Mainframe.” She pointed to a spot on the plans of City Hall, “It would be this room.” 

“Huh.” Buffy examined the map. Giles found the Box in one of his books and set that on the table. Wesley started to examine the entry carefully. 

“So how are you proposing to steal the box, then?” Giles asked Buffy. He had a few ideas of his own as to how the Chosen Two might go about it, but he wanted to see what Buffy had in mind before making any suggestions of his own.

“Well, I figure we can go in through the Skylight. Take Faith with me, and Angel can watch our backs.” She looked over to Faith, who shrugged, having no issue with the plan. 

“There's a fire ladder over here,” Xander suggested, pointing to a spot on the map. “That looks like your best way up.”

Wesley looked up from the book, “Hold on a moment- we need to consider whether the Mayor-” 

Amy watched everyone else ignore the younger Watcher as he spoke about whatever plans Wilkins may have, probably assuming he was going to suggest slowing down. But Amy wasn't so sure. She'd hung around Faith enough to get – usually secondhand, admittedly – that Wesley had been unbending a little, between the twin pressures of Giles being in charge, and Faith being...

Well, Faith.

But the rest of them were paying no mind to Wesley.

“Once we have the box, we'll need to figure out what to do with it. We can't just sit on it, and expect Spike and the Mayor not to attempt to retrieve it.” Giles pointed out, to a chorus of nods and agreement from everyone else.

“Then we destroy it.” Willow suggested. “It'll take some hardcore magic to handle something this powerful, but the right ritual should be able to do it.”

“Hang on a moment,” Wesley cut in again, raising his voice just a touch, “We have no idea as to what such a ritual would require – or even what ritual we'd need.”

Giles shook his head in disagreement, picking one of his books up off the table and opening it to a particular page. “I think the Breath of the Atropyx would suffice easily enough. It would seem standard for this situation.” He handed the book over to Xander. “Fairly simple ingredients, too.”

“I'm on it.” Xander said, taking the book and looking over the list. Nothing too hard to get ahold of. Or that expensive. _The hard part must be in the preparation or the magic, then._ Marking the page with the ribbon bookmark attached to the book, he closed the tome and headed for the exit. 

Cordelia was looking at the map, having said nothing yet – something that had surprised Amy. But she too stepped away from the table, after a moment; Cordelia then followed Xander, apparently deciding to stick with her boyfriend.

Something that, by contrast, didn't surprise Amy too much. She had noticed how those two arrived at school together practically every day, and often left together at the same time as well.

“Hold it!” Wesley said, then he said it again as everyone else started talking over him, his voice raised enough to be a full yell.

_That_ got everyone's attention, and every face in the room – including Xander and Cordelia, who hadn't quite reached the doors yet – turned towards him. 

“This is moving all too fast. This situation needs to be properly analyzed and a proper strategic plan put in place, not this slapdash scheme thrown together at the last minute.” Wesley said with a note of pure exasperation in his voice.

“Wes, keep up, will you?” Faith asked with a laugh, “This is getting done.”

“If you had your way,” Cordelia added with a smirk, “We'd be overanalyzing this for a week.”

“Yes, well, there's a difference between overanalyzing something and having a well thought out, thorough plan.” Wesley insisted, looking at everyone. “You cannot assume that you can just come in through the Skylight and simply grab the box. The Mayor is almost certain to have magical safeguards protecting something this important to his plans!” No one – not even Giles – had any response to that. “Forgot about that, did we?”

It was Buffy who spoke first, “Point.” Then, after giving Wesley his due, she pointed to Willow and Amy, “Think you guys can come up with something to deal with whatever the Mayor has set up?”

“Definitely.” Willow said with a smile, happy at the chance to work magic – especially in the field.

“I think we should be able to work out something.” Amy agreed. While none of the spells the...blackmailing bastard 'paid' her with – the payment really only added insult to injury – were designed to get rid of magical protections, trying to understand those spells had given Amy additional insights. Between the two of them, Amy was confident that she and Willow could handle whatever the Mayor had set up.

Of course, thinking about her...'benefactor', her blackmailer....made her realize that this would be something he'd want to know.

_I could just not tell him..._

_But what if he finds out some other way? Either that the box is here, or that we stole it...and what'll happen when he realizes I didn't tell him?_

Amy still remembered with gut-clenching fear the note that had appeared right next to her after she'd hung up on him, when he'd first told her to spy on her friends...the way he'd so casually shown how easily he could get to her, or get the information...the information about her mother's death to her friends...

Every time she spoke to him about something happening in Sunnydale...Amy felt dirty...like she was betraying her friends...betraying Faith...

_Maybe he'll want the Box for himself and he'll go after the Mayor for it...if I'm lucky, the two of them could even kill each other over it._ Amy doubted this faint hope of hers would come to pass, but it couldn't hurt to hope for the best.

_Still...I have...I have to...otherwise he'll...I can't let him -_

She couldn't contact him now, not just yet – too many people around. Not here. But she had to tell him. Or else...

The thought of what he might to – do her, to her friendships with the others...to...

It didn't bear thinking about.

She needed to get out of the room and call him...so Amy looked over at Willow. “I think I remember reading about a spell that might help us. I wrote down a bit about where I found it in one of my notebooks. Let me run to my locker. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Willow nodded and Amy, fear and self-loathing warring in her, the dirty feeling she got every time...

She left the room, walking down the dark and empty school corridor before ducking into an empty classroom.

**Mayor's Office, City Hall  
May 4th, 1999**

It wasn't quite time for him to...ingest the contents of the Box of Gavrock. There were a few more things he needed to get ready. Including quite a large quantity of salt and pepper. He wasn't sure if he'd need either, but it was good to be prepared, and if he did need such condiments...well, he had a lot to eat, now didn't he?

The phone rang, and the Mayor had it in hand within a moment. Caller ID made it clear who was calling, and already the spells disguising his voice were in place. 

“Well, hello there Miss Madison.” What was it this time, he wondered. Only occasionally had anything useful – useful in terms of his needs, anyway – come out of his little deal with the young witch. But enough had that Richard was still quite happy with the results of his original plan. Amy had proved to have a stronger moral center than her mother ever had, granted, but she was still as easy manipulate as dear old Catherine. “What do you have for me?”

“The Mayor. He has something. A magical artifact of some kind. The Box of Gavrock.” Amy Madison replied, her tone flat and emotionless. 

“I see.” Spike had said the Slayers were there at the Sunnydale Airport, but he hadn't expected them to know the name of his package. And if they had the name, they probably knew it was important to his plans. Which meant they might try to take it.

_I'll have to put up a protective spell, then._ The Mayor thought to himself. _Well, bother. Always gives me a headache, setting up such wards...but better safe than sorry, as dear old mother used to say..._

“Thank you. Your information has been very...useful, Miss Madison, but right now I have some other arrangements to see to. Have a good night.” Wilkins hung up the phone, humming a happy little tune to himself.

_A good plan indeed._ Wilkins let a little smile form on his face at the thought.

**Boys' Restroom, Sunnydale High  
May 5th, 1999**

Xander ducked into an empty restroom not too far from the Library. He'd handed the ingredients he'd gotten for the 'Breath of the Atropyx' ritual over to Cordelia, asking her to take them to Willow and Amy. He didn't actually say he was going to take a leak as he'd gestured his head down the corridor, but he'd let Cordelia think that was why he was asking her to bring the goods to the others, and that he'd be there in a second.

He had of course gone into the restroom, but not because of his bladder. 

The Iron Coin had continued to prove to be unhelpful over the past month or so. But after Finch's death...Xander had refused to become complacent with the coin. And now was the time to use it for today. 

“Buffy Summers.” Nothing. He guessed that was because that scene of her fighting the mouthless demon had already come to pass, now – Buffy's delightful little experience with telepathy, which he'd failed to prevent, damn it. 

“Cordelia Chase.” Just that same scene of his girlfriend crying, while departing Sunnydale on a bus. That one still didn't make any sense to him. 

“Willow Rosenberg.” Even as he said it, Xander prepared himself for what had by now become usual...and sure enough, once again, he had a vision of Willow staking some vampire in the back with that floating pencil.

“Daniel Osbourne.” 

Xander inadvertently froze as, for the briefest of moments, he saw Oz walking, striding forward, purposeful, barely contained fury seething across his features. Harris couldn't see enough to know where his werewolf friend was walking, or anything else...he was in the Library, though, if Xander guessed right about the glimpse...

_Well, that was unusual. Oz getting angry is definitely noteworthy._ Granted, but without more context, as a warning of what was to come...it was useless.

He flipped the coin again a number of times. Nothing at all for anyone else, not even Wesley. The Jester's 'gift' was getting closer and closer to useless, nowadays. The real question was if that was a permanent state of affairs or not.

If it was permanent...well...

Xander wasn't sure just what he'd do in that case, he had to admit.

**Hall, Sunnydale  
May 5th, 1999**

_Well, that went just perfectly._ Willow thought to herself miserably, as she looked around the room she was locked up in. 

And really, it had. Between them, she and Amy had come up with a spell that should have been able to disable just about any magical protections the Mayor would put on the Box. Well, they'd been pretty sure. And, as it turned out, yes it did. 

The magical wards had been disabled and Buffy had had the Box in hand. Then it all went to – uh, it all went bad. 

The Mayor must have had his minions waiting on the roof, because at the same time that his vampire lackeys had come into the conference room, where she and Buffy and Faith were, the undead were coming at the rest of the white hat strike team, up above. Angel had tried to hold them off as Buffy and Faith went the long way out of the building, and she'd tried to climb back up the rope...

But that was when he'd grabbed her. Spike. Angel and Amy must not have noticed her get taken in their confusion...they'd probably assumed she'd been with Buffy and Faith...

And vice-versa.

_Of course, by now they must know I'm missing._

Willow made an effort to take a deep breath, and then put on her Resolve Face. The Mayor wouldn't kill her. Not yet. Buffy had the Box, and the Mayor wanted it back. If he killed her, he had no leverage at all; Wilkins _had_ to know that Buffy would destroy his prized possession at once, if her best friend was harmed in any way. 

Willow knew Buffy would make the trade – she was like that – and she didn't think anyone else would object...

Of course...of course, then the Mayor would have the box again, and could be all box happy with whatever it was inside it. It was highly unlikely that Buffy and Faith would ever get a second chance at trying to steal it; Wilkins wasn't dumb enough to make the same mistake _twice._

Willow's eyes went to the window. It was locked, but maybe....

If she could get away before any trade happened, escape before her friends were forced to hand over the Box, then they'd still be able to destroy the thing and prevent the Mayor's evil plans from coming to pass. Well, hopefully. 

Taking another deep breath, still wearing her Resolve Face...Willow banged on the window, trying to see if she could get it to budge...but, nothing happened. Again. Nothing.

_Maybe there's something in the room..._ A screwdriver, or something she could use to break the glass...okay, the desk was next. Willow pulled open a drawer, then turned as the door opened, heart pounding as she saw that it was a vampire, game face and all.

“What are you doing?” The vampire demanded harshly.

“Oh! Uhm...” The vamp was starting to move closer towards her. Her hand drifted to the pencil in her pocket and she slowly took it out, holding it behind her back. “I'm looking for a sucking candy.” She babbled, “'cause my mouth gets dry when I'm nervous, or held prisoner against my will...” Her voice trailed off as she saw the vampire smirk and come closer to her. 

“And suddenly I'm thinking 'sucking' isn't a good word to use around vampires.” The vampire was so close to her she could smell its foul breath. “Hey!” Willow demanded, putting on her best authority voice, even as the pencil slipped out of her hand and started a slow movement, going around the vampire's back. “Did you get permission to eat the hostage? I don't think so! You're going to be in some trouble when the Mayor-” She was cut off by a burst of pain as the vampire grabbed her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. “Ow!” Her composure slipped. Okay, Willow had to admit she was now officially terrified.

But not too terrified. The pencil was still moving.

“Just a little taste.” The vampire insisted, leaning in towards her neck...only to freeze in place as Willow used her magic to shove the pencil into his back, right into the heart. Ashes exploded, and there was shrill wail of a vampire demon being sent back to Hell. Heart still pounding, Willow bent down and picked up the pencil.

_I'm glad Xander made that joke about penciling the vampires to death._ She'd gotten the idea of keeping one on her at all times just in case after that, and after one pencil-heavy training session with Giles. She knew Amy did the same.

Willow stood in place for a moment, inhaling deep, shaking breaths, then her eyes focused on the open door. Definitely time to get out of here.

And yet, once she found herself alone in the Mayor's office...

**Library, Sunnydale High  
May 5th, 1999**

Everyone was in the library. Everyone but Willow. 

“How the hell did this happen?” Buffy demanded – not of anyone...of herself...of everyone. At least, that was Xander's guess. She didn't seem to be blaming anyone for this latest fiasco. Not yet, anyway. 

“I thought she was with you.” Angel said, looking upset. “I mean, I just kind of assumed that when we ran off the roof, back down the ladder, I...I figured she was with you and Faith, we were under attack, there wasn't any time to...” He looked at Buffy, “Buffy, I'm sorry.” Angel was usually pretty soft spoken, but Xander was pretty sure this brought it to a new level.

Xander was all aboard the 'blame it on Angel' train, but Buffy didn't seem to be. No surprise there.

“Look, it's nobody's fault, okay? We need to focus and deal. I won't let them hurt her, Oz. I swear.” She looked the werewolf in the eyes as she said that.

“We need a plan, then we need to go in and get her back.” Xander said. “We have the maps, and you guys were in there.” He said, looking to Buffy and Faith.

“Yes, well. If we tried to go in there, guns blazing as it were, the first thing the Mayor would do is either kill her, or threaten to kill her if we don't leave immediately.” Giles pointed out.

“That's, uh, assuming she hasn't been killed already. The Mayor's enforcers are all vampires, after all.” Wesley pointed out from just outside the main group. Everyone else was basically huddled around the table, but Wesley hadn't joined them there.

“No." Buffy shook her head. “They haven't killed her, and they won't kill her. The Mayor's smarter than that. We have his box. She's his bargaining chip. We trade.”

Wesley looked appalled at the suggestion, his mouth falling open in shock. “We can't do that!” He insisted. 

_Limey bastard._ Xander clenched his fist – Willow was being held prisoner by the Mayor, and this – this outsider was suggesting they let her die?

“No, it's the safest plan.” Buffy insisted. “It's the only way, right?”

“It, ah, would seem so.” Giles agreed after a moment. 

“Only way, maybe. But hardly guaranteed to work.” Cordelia said disdainfully. “Any deal we try to make with the Mayor, it's going to go badly. Hello, bad guy? Double-crossing the enemy, pretty much their standard M.O.!”

“Not the point.” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I mean, yeah, you're right - but we still need to make the trade, it's Willow's _life_ we're talking about here. We call the Mayor and arrange a suitable meeting place. Somewhere where we can make sure he can't double-cross us.”

“Schedule the meet somewhere in the school, after we block the exits.” Faith suggested. “Give him only one way in, one way out.”

“Has everyone here lost their mind? There can be no trade - that Box must be destroyed!” Wesley insisted to everyone, gesturing a little wildly, as if confused why they weren't agreeing with him. 

Xander's fist clenched again, and without making effort to stop himself, he went over to Wesley – it was only a few steps – and he punched the man in the chest. Hard enough to hurt, but hopefully not enough to actually do more than that. Xander doubted it would do more. He wasn't _that_ strong.

“Xander!” Cordelia hissed at him. Everyone else looked surprised that he'd done it too. 

“Needed to be done.” Xander said, not regretting his actions one iota. He looked at Wesley, who was rubbing at the impact site with one hand, still looking pained.

Pained though he might be, Pryce wasn't about to back down from his position. “Mr. Giles,” he said, looking straight at the older Watcher. “You know I'm right about this!”

“Wes, here's a little tip; keep it up with that kinda talk, and we'll see if I can't break a rib by accident when I'm punching you.” Faith said, glaring at her supposed Watcher.

“Damn it!” Wesley said angrily, looking at all of them. “Listen to me! I don't want Miss Rosenberg to die any more than you do. But this box is the key to the Mayor's Ascension. Thousands, and potentially more, lives rest on it being destroyed, and you're proposing to simply deliver it into the enemy's hands? Rescuing your friend is a noble and worthwhile endeavor, granted, but there are other ways to do it! There have to be!”

“There isn't another way. Not now. Face it, Wes; we don't have time to overanalyze this for the next week or so.” Buffy disagreed, and Xander could almost feel how angry she was. She didn't get like this – at least, not usually. Was she blaming herself for Willow getting captured? It seemed like that might be the case, from how angry she was.

“You're the one who wanted to go after this box, take the fight to the Mayor.” Wesley pointed out, either not noticing or not caring about the death glares pretty much everyone in the room was giving him – nor that probably everyone was contemplating doing him serious bodily harm. Xander certainly knew he was thinking really hard about beating the ever-loving-crap out of Wesley. “You were right. Destroying this box is the town's best hope of survival. Do you really think Miss Rosenberg-”

“You don't get to say her name.” Buffy cut in, stepping closer to him, looking him right in the eye. “Not when you're telling me we should just leave her there to die!”

“That's not what he said, or at least not exactly.” Giles cut in, one hand essentially pointing at both Buffy and Wesley. “Please. Let's deal with situation rationally.”

Buffy looked betrayed, transferring her glare to Giles. “Why are you taking _his_ side?”

The three – Wesley, Giles and Buffy – started yelling at each other, as the argument quickly kicked into high gear. Wesley was saying something about irresponsibility, Buffy said something that sounded like 'are you even made of human parts?'. Giles was trying to talk over both of them, trying to get them to stop arguing.

Finally, Wesley's voice cut through the yelling. “You'd sacrifice thousands of lives? All of you? Your friends? Your families?” He transferred his look from Buffy to everyone else. Xander saw Oz get up out of the corner of his eye...angry...and suddenly, what he'd foreseen earlier that day with the Iron Coin made sense. He saw where Oz was headed.

Xander said and did nothing to stop him, though. _Why didn't I think of that first?_ That was what was going through his head. Not any idea of stopping him.

Wesley was still talking. He pointed to the ritual urn that he, Xander, Cordelia and Oz had prepared while the box was being taken. “We have the means to destroy that blasted thing, right here. It can all end, right here, right...” Wesley's voice trailed off as the urn, thrown by Oz, crashed into the wall, shattering into dozens – at least – of pieces.

Wesley spun and looked at the unapologetic Oz. “You idiot!” he all but snarled, with a completely uncharacteristic carelessness and unrestrained note in his voice. “You may have just doomed this entire town to death, do you realize? Or do you not care?” He wheeled back around to glare at Buffy, for once his glare actually accomplishing something other than making him look ridiculous. 

If Xander hadn't known Wesley fairly well by now, the Watcher's glare might actually have scared him. _Guess maybe he's more than just a waste of space, after all._

Wes continued, berating Buffy now. “Fine. Return the box to the Mayor in exchange for your friend's life. But don't pretend that what you're doing falls even _remotely_ into the category of 'moral'. What you're proposing – and what Mr. Osbourne has done – is stupid, selfish, short-sighted and foolish in the extreme. If you do this, and then fail to stop the Mayor come Graduation Day? Then the deaths of thousands of people – perhaps even more – will be on your head. All of your heads!” He gestured wildly at all of them. 

Wesley took a breath and straightened his tie, his voice returning to the clipped, controlled tone he'd always had before. “But, if you're going to insist on doing this, then do it right. Faith's suggestion of making sure the Mayor or whoever he sends has only one way in or out is a good one.” 

Giles shook his head, as if trying to shake something off; then he looked at Buffy, pointedly avoiding Wesley's condemning gaze. “I'll make the call.”

**Library, Sunnydale High  
May 5th, 1999**

From the moment they'd learned Willow had been captured, Amy had started to panic.

Not out of fear for Willow's life – they had the Box. They could trade it to get her back safely. Apart from the minor doubts she had about the Mayor double-crossing them somehow, the Madison girl believed that implicitly.

No. What Amy was panicking about was...all the pieces coming together.

_How did I not see it before? Who else would – the power, and else would care about what we're up to- oh, goddess..._

Amy was willing to admit she couldn't be sure she had finally identified her mystery blackmailer – there was no hard evidence. But she knew the Mayor had powerful magic at his command, she had seen it for herself earlier tonight. And who else in this town would have the kind of power it would have taken, to...to create that spell she had used to kill her mother...

Who else would have cared? The Mayor had been their enemy right from the start. She knew that now. And...Trick had worked for the Mayor, and he'd been the one to take her mother's trophy...damn it, it all fit too well. Wilkins must have...

That had to have been his plan, all along. Send her mother against them...but give Amy herself another option...a way to stop that demented witch. If it turned out she couldn't or wouldn't do it...then she was dead, along with Buffy and Faith – probably the others as well...

No bad thing, from the Mayor's point of view. But if it worked...

The blackmail factor alone had guaranteed a reluctant spy in the Slayers' ranks.

She had played right into his hands. 

It was all Amy could do to stop herself from hyperventilating.

Last night she had actually told the Mayor their plans, in so many words...

She'd warned him they were coming, at the very least.

Everything made sense now...he'd said...he'd said that all debts would be settled by the end of summer... by the end of summer. He'd emphasized that. But...well, if Wilkins succeeded in his plans on Graduation Day...

He wouldn't need her anymore, would he?

When she'd realized Willow was captured – the security on the roof...what **he** had said on the phone...that he had to make 'arrangements'. That her information had been useful...

She'd thought nothing of it then. But after figuring out that **he** was the Mayor...

Oh goddess...

Amy's heart pounded in her chest, all but drowning out most of the argument over what to do, as she panicked madly. She couldn't tell them. Buffy was furious – all of them were. She was part of the group, yes, she was one of the Scoobies (really lame-ass name that Xander had come up with, even though somehow, it fit), but...Amy knew she was the newest member, and she was only close to Faith...

They wouldn't – they wouldn't be interested in letting her explain. Buffy would just...

And Faith...

Of all the others' reactions...Faith's was the one she was most terrified about. Faith had saved her life – Faith had accepted her after she'd killed her mother...but only because she'd thought it was an accident...and Faith had killed someone herself...but for her, it really had been an accident. Well, semi-accidental in the heat of battle, but whatever.

_I can't lie to her...not now...not now that I know..._

The others...she could keep her secrets from them...at least for now. But...

She'd never be able to look Faith in the eye again, if she didn't tell her friend the truth about this.

And if she didn't tell Faith now...she'd lose her nerve and chicken out forever.

Amy came back to her surroundings when she saw Oz throwing the urn away, saw it crash against the wall. 

She had to tell Faith.

The only question was, how? How to tell her...with no one overhearing what she had to say?

She heard Wesley ranting at Buffy...at all of them. _It's all my fault Willow got caught...all the blame is really mine, if thousands of people die...._

Amy licked her lips nervously, her mouth dry, her skin feeling clammy...her heart still pounding. And as Giles said he'd make the call, she turned to Faith, putting a hand on the Slayer's arm. 

“Faith,” Amy murmured, so that only her friend could hear her. “I need to talk to you. Now. In private.” She tried her best to keep the terror from her voice. Her guilt. Her fears of how Faith would react to the truth.

“We don't really have time for-” Faith started to say. 

But Amy shook her head. “No. We do. This is important. _Please_ Faith, you have to listen to me!” she begged the brunette Slayer. She couldn't let Faith convince her to put this off. She had to tell her now...now, before she rationalized away confessing the truth. She owed it to Faith.

It had to have been the begging that did it. Faith looked at her and nodded. She then looked over at Buffy. “Okay, I'm going to check the school, start blocking off the doors and windows. You know, open place, room to move, all that shit they show on TV when this happens.” Buffy nodded, still half-glaring at Wesley. 

Faith went for the door, and Amy followed her out. They turned down a hall and went into a classroom at the far end of it. Once they were inside, Amy locked the door, so they wouldn't be interrupted.

“Why are you locking the door?” Faith asked, her tone rushed – she wanted to get back to the real task, as she saw it. Helping save Willow. But Amy was her friend...so she didn't sound exasperated, like someone else might have after Amy's insistence.

“So no one else – can hear. So no one can hear me...” Amy started to hyperventilate, short shallow breaths starting to wrack her body. It took her a moment, but she got herself back under control, barely. “Faith – I didn't...my mother's death wasn't an accident. I didn't...I didn't just...channel my power...didn't just say some random Latin words as the spell...happened...it was a real spell...” she babbled, words catching in her throat.

Faith didn't understand – not yet. “So what are you saying? You knew what the spell would...you were trying to-”

“No!” Amy exclaimed, raising her voice. “I didn't know what it would actually _do_...I was just so scared....terrified of my mother...of what she would do to me. Rack refused to help me...and no one else had the power to stop her. I was a dead woman walking, and I knew it. That's when...he...” Amy started to hyperventilate again, and this time she couldn't control the shallow breaths. “I never saw him – and he disguised his voice with magic – he...he said...the spell would stop her...stop her from hurting me, my friends...anyone...and that afterwards I would owe him a favor...”

Tears started to come to her eyes – just some water in the corners yet... Faith looked at her, concern evident...worry...and...confusion...mostly confusion, still.

“I know it was stupid...but I was so scared...you don't know how terrified she made me...how...I was desperate...oh geez...” Amy forced herself to take a shaky deep breath. “After she...after my mom overcame everything else we tried...I knew I was going to die. That she would kill me, and everyone else. At that moment, I thought I had no other choice; I _had_ to use that spell, even though I didn't know what exactly it would do. I killed her...I killed my mother – it wasn't an accident...and afterwards...”

Faith walked over to her friend. After an awkward moment, the Slayer put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Amy – you said it yourself, you didn't know that spell was going to kill her. So, still qualifies as unpremeditated manslaughter in my book. Besides, that pissed-off bitch really _was_ out to kill us all, that night. Even if you'd planned it that way from the start, you still saved all our lives - did the right fucking thing, far as I'm concerned.” Faith looked at her friend, straight on. “But what does that have to do with – I mean, why confess about it now?”

“You don't understand! He - the man who sent me that spell, he's the Mayor!” Amy almost screamed. “He blackmailed me – said if I didn't do what he wanted, that he'd tell everyone that I...I didn't know what to do. I didn't know that he was the Mayor then, I only just now figured it out! He, he said if I didn't...do...he-he would make sure everyone knew what I did...that it wasn't an accident...I couldn't...I couldn't let you know...let you find out what I did. I'm a murderer, Faith.”

Amy drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Earlier tonight, I phoned him – I thought I had to tell my blackmailer about the box, I didn't know...but that's how he knew. How the Mayor knew that we knew...he knew that we'd come for it....! It's all my fault Willow got captured! It's my fault Oz destroyed the Urn, and it's going to be my fault when thousands of people die on Graduation day because we didn't destroy that damn Box!”

Amy just....there was no better word for it...she broke down completely. Great heaving gasps wracked her, tears falling from her eyes as she lost all coherence, months of bottled up fear from his blackmail, his demand for her to be his spy...fear of Faith's reaction...relief that Faith didn't – that she didn't...but...she'd....

It was a few minutes before Faith started to shake her, an arm on each of Amy's shoulders. “Amy! Amy! C'mon, get a hold of yourself!” She demanded. Slowly, Amy managed to get control of her breathing, managed to stop from crying straight out.

Faith shook her head for a moment, “God, I suck at this sort of – alright, Amy, way I see it? You fucked up. Big time. Major mistake in letting that guy blackmail you...but I can get what must have been going through your head at the time. After I killed Finch...no, screw that shit. We gotta focus here! Okay, so you fucked up, but you're not some evil bitch like your mom was. You killed her, and that was not murder. Self-defense, defense of others. All that crap. Anyone needed killing, it was her.”

Not sure what to say, Faith just kept talking, without really thinking about it. “You fucked up. But we'll get Willow back, and even if the Mayor gets his magic box back, we'll stop him. Somehow. You, me, Buffy, Willow, Giles, everyone else.” She scoffed, “Betcha even Weasel-y Wes will find a way to not be completely useless where that's concerned.”

“But I – I lied to you...I spied...” Amy started, the tears starting to come back.

Faith cut her off before her friend started crying again. She wasn't sure she could handle that. She couldn't deal with crying. “Yea, I know. And I'm seriously not happy about that. And Buffy wouldn't be if we told her. Good thing we won't – not now, anyway.”

“We won't?” Amy looked up at her friend, confused. She'd been so sure that Faith would demand – insist they talk to Buffy about this. Didn't the other Slayer need to know?

“Mood she's in right now? B would tear both your arms off and beat you to death with them. Or close enough. No. Later. Right now, we focus on saving Willow. Can you do that? I need you to get with the program – for now. Hold off on all the crying. Keep yourself under control...just until we get her back. Alright?”

Amy nodded slowly. “All right.” She took a deep breath then said it again, more firmly. “All right. I can do that.”

**Library, Sunnydale High  
May 6th, 1999**

The trade had gone as planned, well – more or less. There had been some unexpected gatecrashers to the party, namely Snyder and his rent-a-cops – but in the end the Mayor had gotten his Box back, and the good guys had gotten their red-haired friend back. Anyway, right now, Giles was looking at the pages Willow had torn out of the Books of Ascension. “Are these-?”

“Yep.” Willow nodded. “And that's not all of them.” She reached into her left shoe and pulled out a few more folded pages. She looked at Giles apologetically. “It's the only other hiding place I could think of, when I heard someone coming towards the Mayor's private office. See what you can make of them?” 

Giles nodded and smiled, thrilled to have these to work with. He hurried over into his own private office, vanishing from view.

Buffy looked at Willow. “Maybe you should get captured more often, if you can come back with this kind of intel.”

Willow shook her head, laughing a little, “Oh, no, thank you.”

Wesley stepped towards them. “Well, let's hope there _is_ something useful in those pages. Otherwise, we really are right back where we started. The Mayor has the Box, and we have nothing.”

Buffy looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Damn it, but she knew he was right – if what Willow had purloined was useless, they really were right back where they'd started. She wouldn't change her decision for a minute...Willow's life was too important, as her best friend, to not have made the deal. But now that she'd had some time...yeah, Wesley was right about one thing. 

If the Mayor did succeed in his plan, whatever he truly had up his sleeve – and the fact that he was invulnerable right now only made that seem more likely...

All the people that would die less than a month from now. That would be on her.

_Well, guess I just have to make sure they don't die. Somehow._

**Outside Picnic Area, Sunnydale High  
May 6th, 1999**

Xander was definitely distracted, thinking about the previous night. When the Mayor had strolled into the cafeteria with his undead minions, especially that lousy son of a bitch, Spike. The vampire had had an arm wrapped around Willow's throat, ready to snap her neck in an instant...

Of course, from Buffy and Angel's perspective, the Mayor's mind games about how their relationship was doomed couldn't have helped – though every point raised was one that had occurred to Xander before. But that didn't change how jarring it might be to Buffy and Angel - something they probably hadn't wanted to think about.

“Xander? Are you listening to me?” Buffy's voice intruded into his consciousness, causing Xander to blink rapidly.

“Huh? What?” Harris said thickly, banishing thoughts of the mayor from his mind.

“I'm a Sunnydale girl.” Buffy repeated. “I can't just ditch town and leave Faith to handle the Slayage. That spider-thing nearly killed her last night, just before you grabbed Willow from Spike. No. I'm stuck here. I've got to face it.” That attack by the spider demon – which Buffy had only just stopped...that was what had ultimately convinced her what direction her life had to go. 

If something happened to Faith while she was gone...she couldn't accept that. Buffy knew exactly how long Slayers usually lived. She'd beaten the odds, and that was _including_ the night Xander had brought her back from the dead with CPR. She'd make sure that Faith beat the odds too. Two Slayers, fighting side by side. No better way to keep things on the Hellmouth under control.

“You're stuck here. Right. Here's the real question, though.” Xander said, putting down his sandwich. “How exactly are you going to tell your mother that you're turning down Northwestern for UC Sunnydale?”


	21. Episode 20: The Prom Must Go On

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy. I own whatever you don't recognize, and that's it.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta.

This episode's something that I'm sure some of you are finding a little overdue – a heavily Xander and Cordelia focused chapter. Given the nature of this episode in the original show, this really is the perfect place to give these two the stage, which I haven't really given them for a few episodes.

The Iron Coin Chronicles Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 20: The Prom Must Go On

**May 9th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander woke up, his arm around Cordelia's waist, the sun coming in through the window of his room. Blinking against the light for a moment, Xander looked at the clock on his bedside table, careful not to move so much that he woke Cordy up. 

6:55. Earlier than he usually woke up, but what the hell; awake he was, now. It would be time to get up soon enough; so there was no point trying to go back to sleep at this point.

Xander looked at the still sleeping Cordelia and smiled – every day, he counted his lucky stars that he had her in his life. This beautiful woman that he loved – and that loved him. Every day with her was...well, it was an extra day that he might not have had, if the forces of Fate had had their way. 

He still had the memory, from all those months ago, of that vision the Iron Coin had granted him. The one of him kissing Willow and that strange smoke or energy, that had seemed to be in the background. That image flashed across his memory for a moment – but Harris quickly shook his head, putting it out of the forefront of his mind.

Sure, if Fate had had its way, he wouldn't be together with Cordelia right now – Xander knew his girlfriend well enough to understand that she would never tolerate a cheating boyfriend, not even him – and Willow and Oz may well have broken up, as well...but still. If he had cheated on her with Willow that way, then Cordy wouldn't have had anyone to turn to when she'd found out about her father's tax cheating. Nowhere to go, and no one she could really share the burden with. 

Xander had no idea what Fate had been trying to accomplish with all that, but bottom line, quite frankly he didn't care. He'd meant it, what he'd told Gandalf the Black – that 'Librarian', the avatar of the forces of Order, or whatever the hell he/it really was – that night. Maybe he couldn't fuck with their plans much – but he'd do what he could.

Over the past nine months, he'd tried – he really had – to wrap his head around whatever scope Fate and Chaos operated on...but in the end, he couldn't. _The limits of my 'limited human perception', as the Jester would no doubt say._ That sort of scale...thinking in terms of billions of people, and other dimensions, who lived or who died or whatever...it had just proven too much. Brain lock mode, so to speak. He was wasting his time trying to think on that level, and last night, he'd eventually realized it. 

Putting Fate and Chaos out of his mind, Xander focused his gaze on Cordelia. After a few minutes, looking at her, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. Cordelia moved in her sleep, but didn't wake up. Smirking, Xander kissed her again, lingering a little, then a third kiss. That seemed to do it – Cordelia's eyes opened, and his girlfriend returned the kiss, turning to face him, putting her own arms around his waist as they started to make out.

About a minute later, they both pulled back, though still close. 

“Morning.” Xander said softly. “Sleep well?”

Cordelia smiled, “About as well as I ever can, in this town.” 

Xander didn't know just what nightmares plagued Cordelia in her sleep – they never talked specifics. Xander knew his own – the Iron Coin, and the visions it had given him featured heavily – the bloodier and more horrifying ones, anyway. They hadn't grown any less sharp in his memory since he'd gotten them. They stuck with him. Over and over and over, every night.

“You?” Cordelia asked, pulling her boyfriend out of his thoughts.

Xander shrugged, “About the same.” He looked over at the clock, then back to her. Smirking, he added, “Ya know, I'd say we have just about enough time-”

“God! Xander!” Cordelia shoved at him playfully. “I've asked before and I'll ask it again! Is that all you think about?” 

Xander laughed, “Not _all_ , but it sure dominates most of my thoughts. Awake or asleep. Especially when I have my incredible naked girlfriend here in my bed, right alongside me.” 

“Well, that's about to change!” Cordelia said, poking him the chest lightly, but having trouble suppressing her smile. Pulling back, Cordelia started to get out of bed. “I need a shower.” 

Xander reached out and grabbed her arm around the wrist, pulling her in for a kiss several seconds long. Then he pulled back, “Uh-uh, you don't get the shower first. You take too long.” Laughing, he got out of bed quickly, pulling on a pair of boxers for the trip to the bathroom.

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia stayed in the bed for a few more minutes, stretching to cover more of it – this bed was smaller than the one back at...

By this point, Cordelia was slowly getting used to it. No longer having everything she'd been accustomed to for the past eighteen years, that is. She knew perfectly well her situation could have been worse, a _lot_ worse – part of her hated that she was living her on Xander's mom's charity – hell, she hated the idea of accepting anyone's charity. But...if not for Jessica's generosity, she'd be lucky to be living out of a fleabag motel, or one of those places down by the docks; the red light district where all the town's hookers hung out. Somewhere even worse than the ratty place Faith had been living in originally. 

Or else living off the charity of her poisonous aunt and sharing a house with those annoying little cousins of hers, like her mother was currently doing.

_Of course, Mom is probably doing her best to find some rich young man she can sink her claws into, and do the whole cougar thing with._ Cordelia shook her head a little in disgust at that thought. Even if she hadn't been dating Xander – hadn't loved him...

There was no way in hell she'd just whore herself out like that. Granted, the idea was appealing on one level – getting back everything she'd lost – but...she had too much self-respect for sinking that low. _Cordelia Chase doesn't need to be a slut to make it in the world, dammit!_ One way or the other, she would get back the kind of money and life she'd had before. Eventually. She'd grab life by the balls and earn her own dough, build up her own fortune... 

Granted, over the past few weeks, it wasn't as if some people at school hadn't _finally_ figured out that something had happened with regards to the Chase family and its money. Sure, she'd cut all ties with the popular crowd, apart from Aura – but still. It was a small town, and people talked; her parents had basically vanished from the high society scene, and some other family had eventually moved into her former home. Cordelia knew it was a miracle how it had taken this long for everyone to realize that they'd been evicted, and for her former friends to learn that she was now living with her boyfriend. 

Cordy snorted. She'd heard the whispers – no one had the guts to say it to her face, still fearing her, still fearing the acidic and sharp tongue of the dreaded Queen C – or at least how as the former queen of the school, she knew where all the bodies were buried, so to speak – but still, Cordelia knew what all those girls were thinking. What the gossip mill was grinding out, and what the latest chatter in the school cafeteria was.

That she was basically selling herself to Xander Harris – using her body to have a decent place to stay, until high school was over.

_Which just goes to show they don't know a damn thing about MY boyfriend!_ Cordy knew full well that Xander would have let her stay with him and his mother, even if she'd refused to have sex with him. She'd sent him to sleep on the couch a handful of times, after all, without any long-term problems. 

Then she laughed at the memory of the one time Xander had sent _her_ to sleep on the couch. She'd been in unusually rare form of a bitch that day, admittedly. It had taken her a few days to really calm down and take it in good humor...

But in the end, she had. And, overall, it had actually made their relationship more solid. Neither of them wanted a pushover in a significant other – they were both willful people, stubborn and passionate, each in their own way. Looking back on it, the young woman supposed it actually made a freaky sort of sense that she had eventually chosen the one boy who had never worshipped at her altar, back when she'd been the richest girl in town...

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Cordelia returned to the present and got out of the bed. It would only be a few more minutes before Xander was done with the shower. _Pity it doesn't have room for two..._ Cordelia licked her lips a moment, then slapped herself mentally, _Down Girl!_ She went into the bedroom closet that she'd all but taken over upon moving in to Xander's room, and took out her bathrobe, slipping it on and waiting for Harris to finish up and come back here.

While she waited, her eyes wound their way to the letter on the desk. Her acceptance letter into UC Sunnydale, next fall. Final confirmation – not that she hadn't already known – that she'd be stuck in this town for at least another  four years. But when that was done... _Buffy and Willow be damned. After I graduate college in 2003, Xander and I are leaving this goddamn hell hole for good!_

Cordelia looked away from the letter and instead pondered what she'd wear for today. Even working with a much more limited wardrobe than before, she'd managed to stay fashionable. And she would keep on doing it.

She was halfway through selecting an outfit when Xander came in, his hair still a bit wet, a towel around his waist. She looked him over for a minute, getting her hormones under control, and then she walked over and gave him a quick kiss. “Did you use up all the hot water?” She asked, teasing.

“Cordy, sweetheart – with you around, I'm _always_ taking cold showers.” Xander offered with a teasing tone of his own. It was an old line from him by now, but one that always brought a slight smile to her face. “Shower's all yours.”

“Good.” She went into the hall and then into the bathroom, and Xander set to work getting dressed. He, of course, was done in less than five minutes. It left him plenty of time on his own before Cordelia was due out of the shower. So, First things First. 

Harris reached into the concealed bottom – makeshift as it was – of the bedside table drawer, and took out a small box. Then he took the Iron Coin out of the same compartment. Setting the box on the desk, Xander held up the coin and flipped it.

“Buffy Summers.”

_Students – the entire senior class of 1999, it looked like, banner and everything – all around. Spike, equipped with a nasty pair of brass knuckles, fighting with Buffy – the Slayer bleeding from a cut on the side of her forehead – all around their fight, the students themselves were fighting...dying...more vampires...an angry snarl from somewhere nearby-_

Xander's head snapped back forcefully in the aftermath of the Iron Coin's vision. Wow. He hadn't had a vision that descriptive, for that long, in quite a while – nor one that hit him like a train, like this one had. He stood there, breathing heavily, sorting out what he'd seen. The 'when' was obvious, at least – Graduation Day. Just over a week, now, until A-day. 

_Spike's gonna be there, and Buffy's gonna fight him. Yeah, big surprise – I could have come up with that one myself! But at least now we know the Mayor's going to have other vampires along for the fun, too._

Putting that vision to the side, Xander flipped the coin again, “Faith Lehane.”

_Graduation – again – the battle still raging. That distinctive, angry, roaring noise again, somewhere out of sight – 'off screen', almost. Faith was looking up towards something to the right, something he couldn't see. “Hey, Dick! Look at me, you ugly fucker. I'm the one who killed your man Finch. I also killed your errand boy, Trick You wanna do something about that? Then come and get me!”_

Damn. The force of that vision was just as powerful as the previous one with Buffy, Xander's head snapping back again. Letting out a low groan, Harris rubbed at his neck and left temple for a minute, a headache starting up. Switching hands, he rubbed at his right temple for another few moments, then he went looking for the bottle of Ibuprofen he kept in his bedside table – not in the compartment, right in the open. 

Not like he didn't have legit reasons to have the pills – he didn't go out and help Buffy patrol all that much anymore, though he still did from time to time. He'd made an effort to train so he'd be better when he did go out, but still, post-patrol, coming back home with a few bruises was par for the course. It was just a generic brand from the drug store, rather than say, outright Advil. But it did the trick, for post-patrol pain, and the occasional coin-induced headache.

Even if this particular one was going to be a bit of a monster.

Xander checked the clock as he popped two of the Ibuprofen. Still plenty of time until Cordy was done with her shower, bless her scrupulous attention to personal hygiene. So somewhat against his better judgement, Xander flipped the coin again, preparing himself for more of the same, backlash wise.

“Willow Rosenberg.”

This time, there was nothing. Xander nearly snapped his head back on reflex before he realized that there wasn't any vision from the coin, this time around. He took a deep breath, a little relieved. Before he flipped again, however, he stopped to ponder the vision he'd had after saying Faith's name.

Most of the time, the visions he got from the Iron Coin were things that needed to be stopped – or it certainly seemed like it from his point of view, anyway. Just the way their lives worked. But this – well, okay, Faith was going to taunt the Mayor during the big battle at Graduation. Sounded just like her, to be honest. _I don't see any reason why I need her to not do that. Not yet, anyway..._

Shaking his head, Xander filed the vision away for the time being and looked at the coin. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, Xander flipped it again. “Cordelia Chase.”

Nothing.

_Wait, what?_ Xander had been expecting – once again – that baffling vision of Cordelia on a bus, crying as she left Sunnydale. But- but now it wasn't there anymore. Something must have happened...something which made that outcome be...overwritten in her book, as the Jester might have put it...something in the last, what?

Xander looked at the clock. Fifteen hours since he'd last flipped the coin while saying Cordelia's name? 

_Gift horse, mouth, dude. Don't overthink things, remember? You still got more to do!_

Shrugging, Xander quickly went on his task. The rest of his flips – Oz, Giles, Mrs. Summers, his mom, Amy, and even Wesley – turned up nothing. Well, they only rarely had anything for him to foresee, if ever. It sorta made sense, actually, for the most part. Buffy and Faith were Slayers. As such, they had the most to do in this world, which was why the forces of Fate would try to steer them into a path of their choosing.

Xander checked the clock again. Still another five minutes, at least, if he knew his girlfriend. Xander sighed and slipped the Iron Coin into his pocket, then walked over to a book shelf. Xander ran his finger along the well-worn spines of his books and comic books, before finally selecting one to pass the time with for the next little bit. He sat in the chair at the desk and started reading.

Eventually – though really, it wasn't that long – Xander heard Cordelia come back into the bedroom, her hair mostly dry and wearing her bathrobe once more. To his disappointment (not that he wasn't used to it), Cordelia pulled his closet door half-way shut to block his easy view of her taking off the robe and getting dressed for the day. He didn't say anything about it – it was just what she did, for whatever reason, and it wasn't like he never got to see her naked.

Once she was dressed, Xander set his comic book on the desk and picked up the small box he'd set on the desk earlier. Cordelia came out from next to his closet, combing her hair once more. She raised her eyebrows inquiringly. Smiling, Xander handed her the box. “Open it.”

Putting down the comb, Cordelia took the box from her boyfriend, wondering just what it was. _It's not my birthday, or any special anniversary..._ Sure, if Xander felt like buying her something, then she was all for it, but she couldn't figure out exactly what it was. She'd guess it was probably some kind of jewelry. 

And when she opened it up, she saw how that was exactly what it was. Two earrings – pretty, tasteful and exactly the kind she liked to wear. Cordelia smiled. “Xander, thank you. They're lovely.” 

And they were – her well trained eye could tell that they were far from expensive or fancy earrings, but that hardly mattered. _Well, okay, it matters a little._ Cordelia was honest enough to admit that to herself – but only herself.

Not so much that the fact that they weren't especially expensive bothered her, but she knew she'd probably have liked them even more if that had been the case. _Okay, so I like pretty, expensive things. Sue me._

Putting that thought aside, Cordelia pulled her boyfriend in for a tight embrace. After a moment, she pulled away and raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason, or did you just want to get me something?” She smiled.

“Well, yeah, I did just want to get you something. But, while we're on the subject...” Xander supposed he should feel nervous, according to some kind of grand cosmic rule, but he didn't. “I suppose I should ask you – you _do_ want to go to Senior Prom with me, right?” He smiled.

Cordelia laughed a moment and hit his chest lightly - “Of course I do, you dork. You so didn't even need to ask!” She stepped closer. “But, it's nice that you did.” She pulled him in for a kiss. It lasted long enough that they were almost late for breakfast...

**May 11th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“So it was blue, and sorta short?” The whole group, minus Wesley and Giles – was assembled around the table in the library, even Faith and Amy. Buffy was busy querying Willow about one of the prom dresses she'd looked at.

Willow shook her head, “Not short. More medium. And it had this weird sorta fringey stuff on its arms.” She gestured to her own arms as she spoke.

“What? A demon?” Giles walked out of the office, a legal pad filled with his careful script in one hand. He wasn't actually looking at any of them as he went over whatever it was that he'd written on the papers. 

“No, this disaster area prom dress Willow found when she was shopping.” Cordelia answered. She looked at Willow. “Fringe is never of the good on a prom dress, ya know.”

“Do you ever get your mind out of the Hellmouth?” Buffy asked her Watcher, looking at him and suppressing a bit of a laugh.

“If it were possible, I'd be delighted to.” Giles answered. “Unfortunately,” he went on, “The day of the Mayor's Ascension is fast approaching and we still aren't sure what to expect.”

“What about -” Amy started, then paused. “What about those pages Willow tore out of the Books of Ascension?” 

Xander noticed a sort of...jumpy tone, at first, but it was gone after the pause. Well, Amy had always been pretty jumpy ever since she'd started hanging with them, since she'd officially become a Scooby. _I suppose your mom coming back from the effective dead and trying to kill you will do that to you._ But it had been months – none of the rest of them had had something affect them like that for as long. _Not counting the nightmares, I suppose._

“Yea.” Xander agreed, “I mean, she risked her life to get her hands on those pages. They'd better not be useless.”

Giles shrugged, “No, they're not – on the contrary, from what we now know, the Mayor's Ascension will involve him transforming into an immortal demon of some kind.”

“Unfortunately,” Wesley said as he came down from the upper level of the library, several books in hand, “We haven't been able to figure out which of some thirty thousand demons and demonic subspecies he's going to turn into.”

“Well, actually,” Giles corrected, “We can rule out some of them – some are far too weak to be likely candidates, and the ones from the further dimensions are unlikely as well.” He set the legal pad down, and indicated the papers on the desk. “We may be able to figure out more when we can finally translate these last few passages.”

“Mr. Giles, we _have_ translated them. It's just that the text itself comes out as gobbledegook.” Wesley corrected in turn. 

“Which would suggest that our translation is wrong.” Giles pointed out. 

“No, I don't think so.” Wesley disagreed, setting the books in his hands down on the half-shelf behind him. “I'd say it means that the text itself is encrypted, written in some kind of code or cipher. But,” He continued, “The very fact that we haven't been able to figure out what those passages mean makes it safe to say that we shouldn't be wasting time on such trifling matters as a school dance.”

“And in a perfect world, I'd agree with you.” Giles told him. “Unfortunately,” He fiddled with his glasses a moment, “that odious troll Snyder has decided that I must act as chaperone there for the night.” He offered a brief glare at Wesley, who had managed to get out of it, despite being nominally the 'assistant librarian' and also an employee of the school.

“Which just proves that we can talk about prom as part of official business.” Buffy rationalized. She turned back to Willow, “We'll get you a dress.” She paused a moment, something occurring to her, “You know, we should check April Fools.”

“I'm going to be dipping into my road trip fund,” _What's left of it, anyway._ “to procure a shiny new tux.” Xander told the gang. “So look for me to dazzle.” He took Cordelia's hand, “Though obviously, not as much as my date.” He added with a smile. 

Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes, but noticed how even Willow just took the comment right in stride. “Sometimes, you two-” the blonde Slayer laughed sharply for just a moment. “Get a room.”

“Oh, like you're any better with Angel sometimes.” Xander countered. At Willow's snicker, he looked over at the redhead sitting next to Oz. “And don't think I haven't noticed you're just as bad with Oz by this point, missy!” Willow flushed, but didn't protest the point. Xander smiled again, feeling triumphant. 

“As fond as I am of this stimulating discussion regarding the love lives of American teenagers, can we **please** get back to talking about the Ascension?” Giles demanded, opening a book and setting it on the circulation desk next to the legal pad.

“Giles, we get it.” Buffy said almost reproachfully towards her Watcher. “We've got miles before we sleep, and all that. But if Graduation Day is really going to go so bad as to maybe kill us all, we deserve a little prommy fun. One night of glory.” She shrugged, “Not too much to ask, right?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Wesley said, frowning. “But high school rite of passage or otherwise, Sunnydale's demon and undead population isn't going to just take a nap because you're having your night of glory.” He looked over to Faith, “Still. Faith can cover patrolling that night for you, I suppose.”

“I can?” Faith piped up, looking over at her own Watcher. “Shouldn't you, y'know, ask before volunteering me for double-duty?”

“I wasn't aware you had a prior engagement on the night in question.” Wesley replied blandly. “After all, it isn't as if you're a student at Sunnydale High.” 

Buffy looked over at her counterpart. “I'll owe you a night off, if you cover for me on Prom Night. Deal?”

Faith shrugged, “What the hell, sure.” She looked over at Wesley, then sighed and rolled her eyes. She could argue the whole 'volunteering her' thing with him, but he'd be all stick rammed up his British Channel about it, and she'd eventually get to the point where strangling him would seem like a good idea. No point in fighting the guy on this one. Hell, arguing any point with Wesley was pretty pointless. 

_Not like I can't just ignore him whenever I want._

**May 12th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander and Cordelia were upstairs in his room – their room, now – together on the bed, the boy's arm around the girl's shoulders as they sat in silence. Cordelia was reading some kind of fashion magazine, while Xander was reading one of his comic books. They didn't need to say anything – they were just enjoying each other's company, the presence of the other next to them.

Xander's mind, though, wasn't really on the comic book he was reading. And he wasn't sure Cordelia's was really on her fashion magazine, either. The Hellhound that had attacked them at April Fool's while they were trying to find him a tux for the prom – well, all that hadn't exactly been pleasant. The damn thing had almost killed him. But then the demon dog had mauled another student to death, before escaping the trashed store. More than that, the thought of one of those things showing up at Senior Prom... 

Harris was pretty sure the Slayers could handle it okay – Buffy had gone to get the guy's address. She'd get it to Faith, and before the Prom Night festivities Faith would beat up Tucker Wells and kill his demon pets, and everyone could have a good time. _Hell, even Faith will have a good time, since she gets to Slay things and beat the crap out of someone._

Of course, the other thing that might be on Cordy's mind was what she was wearing to the dance. She hadn't had an opportunity to buy the perfect dress for prom when she'd moved all her things – well, all the things she could get away with – into his house. She _had_ brought a fancy dress that she hadn't had an occasion to wear before, and as she'd told him: 'Cordelia Chase does not wear a second-time dress to the prom!' 

But...it wasn't exactly a dress designed for Senior Prom type festivities, apparently. Xander himself really didn't know what the difference was, but...well, clothes weren't his thing, after all.

And, earlier today...Cordelia's eyes had lighted on a particular dress when they'd been getting his tux, and he could tell that she wanted it. And Xander had wanted to buy it for her...but...

He'd have forgone getting a tux if it meant he could get it for her, but...he knew that Cordelia wouldn't have gone along with that. He was escorting her to Senior Prom, ergo the whole tuxedo fashion statement thing wasn't an optional extra. Besides, even if he'd been able to manage not getting the tux, he just didn't have enough money left to purchase the dress in question. Cordelia hadn't asked him to buy it for her, hadn't even complained, but...

Xander let out a soft sigh...someone who didn't know his girlfriend would have called her materialistic, and well...she kind of was, though not as much as others might think. But it was also as much a matter of getting used to her new reality. 

Of course, what was on _his_ mind was something else entirely. Apart from thinking about what might be on Cordelia's mind, that is...

Cordelia looked over at him, hearing the sigh. “Something wrong?”

Xander shook his head, looking over at her in turn. “Mostly just time to sigh. That, and thinking about my mixed feelings where Angel and Buffy breaking up are concerned.” Willow had called him late last night about it, warning him not to mention Angel's name to Buffy again until further notice. He wasn't surprised Buffy hadn't told him yet – Willow would naturally be the go-to girl about that, and...

Well, Xander had been more mature on the issue of Angel this year, ever since the guy had come back from Hell, but still...he'd never been what one might call 'supportive' about the relationship between the ensouled vampire and the Slayer. And Buffy had known that, even when he'd stopped being very verbal about his issues regarding their relationship.

“What do you mean? I mean, there's no 'mixed' about it in my book – Angel's a complete undead jerk for breaking up with her in a sewer, and right before Prom, too!” In Cordelia's view, Angel's actions had made him fall neatly into the 'men are scum' department. 

“There's that, yeah...it's just...” Xander shrugged, “I can't say I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy inside over it, especially given what this is doing to Buffy, but...” Xander let out a long breath, “At the same time...I can't say that I'm bothered by the idea of Angel not hanging around Buffy anymore, once this whole thing with the Mayor is wrapped up.” _Assuming we all survive it..._ “I mean...I trust Buffy not to- hell, I even trust Angel not to...but I can't help feeling...” 

Cordelia nodded, understanding what her boyfriend was getting at. “As long as they're around each other...there's always a chance it'll happen again. No matter how remote. Not like that hasn't occurred to me, too...I totally get what you're saying.” And, as much as it was strange to admit...Cordelia didn't really like the idea of Buffy hurting, either. She wouldn't say she was friends with the Slayer. Not really. But she was _friendly_ with her, just as she was getting to the point of being able to be friendly with Willow. 

“Mixed feelings.” She agreed softly, setting her magazine down. She really didn't want to dwell on the subject, though – so she wracked her mind for a suitable change of topic, finally settling on one. “So... What are your plans, assuming...assuming we make it out of High School alive? I know you've talked about your road trip all over the country – are you still planning on that, or-?” 

Xander shrugged again, “Nah. Not really. Even if I had much of a road trip fund left, I don't really feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why?” Cordy wasn't...upset about the change of decision, since...well, the whole road trip idea he'd talked about a few times had never made any sense to her, but... “You've been planning on it for years...saving up for it since, like, what, since High School started?”

“A little bit longer, actually.” Xander corrected, “but... I mean, I sorta came to the conclusion that I simply don't need to do it. Not only do I not want to just go and leave you behind for three months or whatever, but...I don't need to leave town for a while in order to find myself. Not anymore. Thing is, when Jesse and I first made that plan...I didn't know about all the crazy shit that happened in Sunnydale. I was just a normal kid.” He laughed, “Now I know, and now I'm not.”

He turned his head, looking off in the distance, albeit in the direction of a wall. “As for what I'll actually do once we graduate...well, I talked it over with my mom the other day. We eventually compromised: I live here all of the summer rent free, while I get used to the whole...being done with school thing. But I spend that time looking for a job, and then once I have one...I've got to start paying some kind of rent.”

“And if you can't?” Cordelia asked, concerned suddenly, “Is she going to- will she kick you out of here?”

“I don't know. I don't think so, but I don't plan on finding out. I told mom I'd pay rent while we're living here, and that's what I'm going to do. One way or the other.” 

“Right. Well, I'm pretty sure neither of us can afford to rent an apartment, at least not yet – especially with me doing the whole College Girl thing.” Cordelia shrugged, frowning.

He laughed, “Yeah. But we'll get by, somehow. Even if it means I have to steal the vampires' stuff after Buffy stakes them.”

“Why don't we do that already?” Cordelia asked, wondering why the idea had never occurred to her.

“I think Faith actually does it, sometimes, if the vamp has something worth fencing.” Xander answered with a shrug. “As for why the rest of us don't – well, up until Faith arrived in town, it was Buffy who had to do the actual Slaying, and for some reason she never liked the idea of taking their stuff, even after they're dust. Besides,” he continued, “hasn't been so much of a need to, while we were all in High School. Can't say the idea really sits right with me either, but I'd do it if I had to.”

“Personally, I don't think taking stuff from dusted vampires counts as stealing,” Cordelia disagreed. “Besides. They probably stole everything in the first place, after killing its previous owners.”

Xander laughed, looking at the almost acquisitive gleam in her eyes. “What, are you planning on trying it?”

Now it was Cordelia's turn to laugh. “Maybe. Probably not. Though if the opportunity presents itself, I'm not sure I'd turn it down. A girl has needs, after all.” She smiled.

Xander just shook his head, smiling and suppressing a laugh. “Alright.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. Sometimes, it was better to just go along with Cordy, or at least not debate the point.

**May 13th, 1999  
Main Gym, Sunnydale High**

To be honest, Xander wasn't really enjoying Senior Prom.

Then again, he hadn't really expected that he would. But he was enjoying the fact that Cordelia was enjoying herself, and he didn't mind dancing with her. Not that he was very good at that sort of thing; but, being the amazing dancer she was (thanks to all those ballet lessons when she'd been younger), Cordelia was more than good enough to 'carry' him as well.

He could see Willow and Oz dancing not that far off, and he knew Giles was present somewhere watching the whole thing with his usual 'Giles-ness' about silly teenage behavior, or something along those lines. Buffy was somewhere as well, going stag without Angel.

A small part of his mind was concerned about Faith, Amy and those Hellhounds that Tucker Wells had called up but only a small part. Faith would have them handled just fine, and Amy could manage on her own too – like Willow, she was hard at work on the magic front – and even if they broke in, Buffy...well, she'd handle the situation, before anyone got killed. 

_And then complain to Giles about whatever they did to her dress, granted..._

Not that she wouldn't have a reason – Willow and Buffy had both gotten, to his untrained eye, very nice dresses. Neither held a candle to Cordelia, in his view, though he was hardly unbiased there.

Shaking his head, Xander put all that aside in his mind and concentrated on dancing with his girlfriend. 

But nothing happened, and it was about an hour later when they finally got to the 'Class of 1999' trophies. Everyone was standing around, watching and clapping – sometimes enthusiastically, sometimes politely, as names were called out, according to the awardee and each person in the crowd's view on said awardee.

Xander had seen the brief look of disappointment, perhaps even deep pain, that passed across Cordelia's face as the Prom Queen was announced – Holly Charleston. He took her hand in his for a few moments and squeezed gently. Cordelia looked over at him, a hint of appreciation in her eyes. Then she turned her gaze back to the stage.

It was his own turn for a flash of disappointment at the next announcement, though. 

“And the award for Sunnydale High's Class Clown for 1999 goes to – Jack Mayhew.” 

_Really? They chose_ that _guy?_ Xander shook his head as Jack Mayhew, wearing a ridiculous balloon hat, accepted his award, moving with over-the-top goofiness.

“Come on!” Xander scoffed. “Anyone can be funny with a prop. Real class clown takes more than that.” He looked at Cordelia, “You know, none of the people who vote on these things are even funny.” He complained, even if his heart wasn't really in it. 

Yea, he'd have liked the title of Class Clown, but like his road trip, it was less important to him now than it would have been this time last year. By the same token, he knew that Cordelia, while she was disappointed by not getting the title of Prom Queen, cared less about it now than she might have months before. 

They'd both had to grow up and mature this year – had had to grow up and mature a lot since sophomore year, actually. Since the reality of what was happening in Sunnydale High, in Sunnydale itself...since all that had sunk in.

Xander watched, feeling a little confused as Jonathan walked up to the microphone. They'd gone through all the categories, right? He was even more confused once the guy spoke up.

“We, uh, have one more award to give out.” He said a little unsteadily. “Is Buffy Summers here tonight? Did she, uhm...” Levinson looked out over the crowd, trying to find her – as was almost everyone else. Slowly, almost the entire crowd turned at least a little to see Buffy, who was standing over by the punch bowl, looking even more confused than Xander felt.

“This is actually a new category.” Jonathan explained, “First time ever. I – I guess there were a lot of write in ballots, and the prom committee asked me to- to read this.” As he spoke, he reached into his jacket, first one side and then, realizing it was the wrong one, the other, withdrawing a folded sheet of paper. He unfolded it and started to read.

“We're not good friends,” Jonathan started to say. “Most of us never found the time to get to know you.”

_Well gee, there's a way to make a person feel good about herself..._ Xander slapped his inner snarker and then listened to the rest of what the short nerd was reading.

“But that doesn't mean we haven't noticed you. We don't talk about it much,” for a surprise, almost the entire room was still and silent as Jonathan read, “but it's no secret that Sunnydale High isn't really like other high schools.” _You don't-_ Xander attempted to strangle his inner snark this time and kept listening, starting to understand where this was going.

“A lot of weird stuff happens here,” Levinson continued. Even as he finished that sentence up, one of the students shouted out 'Zombies!', and another shouted 'Hyena People!' Xander couldn't help it – he looked away, biting his lip at the mention of...of _that_ particular incident...

“Snyder!” A third student shouted, and a laugh – not uproarious, but genuine nonetheless – rippled throughout the collected students.

Jonathan continued, still reading from the paper, “But whenever there was a problem, or something creepy happened, you always seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you. Or helped by you at one time or another.” Xander saw unconscious nods coming from students all around him.

“We're proud to say that the class of '99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history.” Xander found himself nodding at that, as did other students. A round of applause started, and Xander joined in enthusiastically, as did Cordelia – nearly all the students were doing it.

Somewhat to his surprise, Xander saw Buffy flushing just a little, looking at her feet intently for a few moments, unused to this...this recognition. _Very overdue recognition, if you ask me._

“And we know at least part of that is because of you.” Jonathan continued. “So the senior class offers its thanks and gives you, uh-uh...this.” He lowered the paper and half-turned towards the table behind him. One of the students on the prom committee handed Jonathan a miniature umbrella, gold colored, with glittering multicolored decorations, a small name plaque near the handle.

Jonathan opened it up. “It's from all of us. And it has written here, Buffy Summers, Class Protector.” 

Once more the applause started up, the crowd parting for the blonde Slayer as she approached the stage and accepted the umbrella, smiling despite herself. Xander clapped loudly, thinking to himself, _You earned it Buffy. This and then some._

It was later still, when he was enjoying a slow dance with Cordelia – well, enjoying her closeness more than the dancing itself – when he saw it. A man who looked suspiciously like-

“Is that Angel?” Harris asked, squinting at the man dancing with Buffy. He could only see the guy's back, but that gelled hair was pretty distinctive. Had been for years, now. “What's he doing here?” Xander shook his head a little, trying to get rid of the confusion bouncing around inside his skull.

“Dancing with Buffy, I'd say.” Cordelia replied dryly. She saw the look on her boyfriend's face and laughed a little. “And no, doofus, pretty sure they're not back together again. 'Cause that's not the look of a happily reunited couple on Buffy's face. To me, this looks more like a, a...a ritual goodbye thing with her ex, or something like that.”

_Ah, that's my girl. Lot smarter than she lets all the people around her think._ Xander watched the Slayer and the vampire for a moment longer, then turned back to Cordelia. “Alright.” He put Buffy and Angel out of his mind, concerned no longer, and returned his full attention to his girlfriend.

Everything and everyone else – the Mayor, Spike, the Iron Coin, the Jester, the Librarian, Fate, Chaos. Fuck 'em all. They could all take a number. 

This was his night with Cordelia Chase, and everything else could just damn well wait until tomorrow.


	22. Episode 21: To Hell With the Council!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy or any part of the TV series. End of story.

Thanks to my beta reader, Starway Man

This is, as one might expect, a fairly big chapter. In part because of its importance, but also in part because of all the changes from the original canon that this episode has.

It is entirely possible that Episode 22 will come out before the end of the month. I make no guarantees regarding this, however.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 21: To Hell With the Council!

**May 18th, 1999  
Hallway, Sunnydale High**

Cordelia leaned in and signed for her cap and gown, scowling as she accepted the maroon garments from the school staff member. 

“Geez. Who had the brainwave for this color?” Cordelia grumbled to her boyfriend as they walked away from the table, after Xander had likewise signed for his graduation robes. “It's such a loser look. I told them teal was the way to go!” 

“I know, honey, I know. It's such a trial, a terrible burden for you to bear – having to be the fashion police to the entire school.” Xander replied, smiling as they walked.

“Bet your ass it is!” Cordelia agreed fervently. “Lone fashionable wolf – that's me.” 

“Yeah. Well, I look at it this way – I wear maroon, and all the blood that spurts out of me when I die during the Ascension won't show as much.” 

Cordelia looked at Xander, waiting for the snort of laughter or sarcastic remark she knew was coming – and she hit his arm lightly, when it didn't.

“Xander! That's not something to joke about.” She told him sternly.

“I know. But, thing is – I'm not joking, Cordy.” Xander said seriously. “Call it a feeling, call it a hunch, hell, call it whatever you want – but after we woke up this morning? I couldn't help figuring there's pretty damn good odds I won't get out of this school alive.”

“Damn it, Xander– will you knock it off with that defeatist thinking crap?” Cordelia demanded crossly. “Because I've invested a lot in 'us' over the past two years, and there is no way in hell I'm just gonna let you die now! Xander, we'll graduate and get out of this school, and then we're going to watch Buffy, Faith and Angel beat the crap out of the Mayor and stop his Ascension. We'll probably even end up helping a little.” She shrugged at the end. “That's how apocalypse season works, isn't it?”

“Ah. Then you haven't heard.” Xander said. He took the copy of the Sunnydale High school newspaper out from under his arm – last issue of the year – and handed it to her.

Wondering what the hell he was talking about, Cordelia unfolded the paper and looked at the front page. The headline provided all the answer she needed. 

**Graduation Commencement Speaker Announced: Mayor Richard Wilkins III**

Cordelia lowered the paper, not bothering to read the article beneath that headline. With a sigh, she looked over at Xander. “You know what? I shouldn’t actually be surprised, given how things work here in Sunnyhell. But couldn't we have had _one_ school ceremony that wasn't tied up in all this crap?”

“No, guess not.” Xander answered with a soft voice and a shrug. He looked through the crowd of students, trying to spot Buffy or Willow. “Well, duty calls. Buffy is going to need to know about this...”

**May 18th, 1999  
Mayor's Office, City Hall, Sunnydale**

Richard Wilkins III closed the blinds in his office, then made sure the door was closed before he nodded to the other door in is room, “Come in.” 

Spike walked into the office, putting the cigarette he'd been about to light back into his pocket of his duster. “Right, then – what is it that you need done now?”

“Always right down to business, Spike.” Wilkins admonished, then laughed, “Still – I suppose that's the real reason why I brought you on board, truth be told. Anyway, first and foremost, congratulations on dealing with the late Professor Lester Worth.” The Mayor opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small pile of fifties, bound around the middle by bank withdrawal paper. He tossed it to Spike, who caught it easily and slipped it into his coat.

“Right – much obliged. So, we're pretty much done, then?” Spike asked straightforwardly.

“No, there's another thing. See, we only have a few more days until the Ascension. And gosh darn it, but I'm simply not prepared to give our plucky little heroes any chance to mess things up for me, now that it's almost showtime. So, I'm afraid I need you to keep them busy with something else.” The Mayor sat down in a chair and gestured for Spike to do the same. Once the vampire was seated – grudging, as always, when it came to meeting the Mayor's various quirks about formal niceties – Wilkins opened another drawer and very carefully took a steel-tipped crossbow bolt out, holding the shaft gingerly between thumb and forefinger as he set it on the desk between them.

“You _are_ capable of shooting Angel with that, aren't you?” Wilkins asked the vampire carefully.

“I can.” Spike confirmed. He could use a crossbow, but even when he was fighting other vamps, he _much_ preferred close in with his fists and a stake when it came to that point. “Still... I hate to point out the obvious, boss, but steel? That's hardly going to kill the Magnificent Poof, even on his worst day ever.” 

Richard Wilkins shook his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Of course it won't kill him, Spike. Not immediately, anyway. That's the whole point.”

“Eh?” Spike suddenly looked at the crossbow bolt warily. “What's the plan, then? Did ya put some kind of spell on it?” 

The Mayor laughed, “No, no, nothing so complicated. Just a fun little poison, charming name of Killer of the Dead. You may have heard of it?” Spike shook his head as Wilkins added, “First he'll start going numb, then feverish and before too long, well.... he'll be dust in the wind, is the simplest way to put it. That's the way Killer of the Dead works, you see; it burns a vampire up from the inside, not unlike ingested holy water. Makes for quite a spectacle, or so I'm told! Anyway, just make sure you don't prick your finger on the pointy end, or the same will happen to you.”

Spike looked at the bolt again, with a new appreciation. “Well. I have to say – this is just neat!” He looked back over to the Mayor, smiling broadly, “Everything else is set up for the big day, then?”

The Mayor nodded. “And the best part is, you and your boys won't need to worry about packing sunscreen!” Wilkins laughed again, chortling at his own joke. “And once you've dealt with Miss Summers, and I've eaten that Faith girl? Why, I'd say all the business between us will be settled, don't you think?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. He'd been wondering if the Mayor would be letting him go after the Ascension. “Yeah. I reckon it will.”

“Excellent. And by the by, I wish you all the luck in the world in finding your beloved Drusilla, once our business is concluded.” He smiled, “Love is such a wonderful thing, isn't it?” The Mayor reached over to the plate next to him and selected a cookie.

**May 19th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

Buffy held out the newspaper to Giles, who turned from Wesley and accepted it, looking at the headline. **Professor Found Murdered.** Even as he started to do that, he moved his sword to block Wesley's fencing attacks, and even made a few attacks of his own, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.

“And why do you think Spike did this, exactly?” Giles asked, lowering his weapon to look at Buffy, as Wesley called a halt to the proceedings. Rupert added, “Buffy, I'm well aware that you're still upset that that vampire has gotten away from you as often as he has, but perhaps you're overreacting a little.”

“Paper said this guy was killed by exsanguination, after a barbeque fork punctured his neck.” Buffy frowned. _Geez, I've been a Slayer too long if I'm actually throwing around a word like that._ “That means vampire. And Professor Worth was in his apartment, not out in the open. I mean, no regular vampire is going to try to finagle an invitation into a college professor's apartment; not when there's like free Happy Meals all over the place, walking the streets of Sunnydale!”

“Ah, well...” Wesley said uncertainly, looking at both Giles and Buffy. “Not that I was here at the time, of course, but I've heard... ah, didn't something similar to this happen, a few months before I arrived in Sunnydale? A vampire broke into young Mr. Harris's house, somehow, and murdered his father?” 

“Not the same thing,” Buffy said firmly, before Giles had a chance to say anything. Those memories were still troubling to her, given that they'd never learned just which member of the undead club had killed Xander's dad. “Seriously, Wes. Similar picture, but totally different brush strokes.”

“Yes, um, I believe Buffy has a point.” Rupert nodded, looking at the newspaper article more closely. “The, err, modus operandi isn't the same. Whoever killed Xander's father didn't care about possible witnesses, like his mother cleaning upstairs; whereas no one was around for this attack, to give the police any descriptions of the killer.” 

“So,” Buffy continued, “That means it was planned. There's a _reason_ why this harmless old guy was targeted in his own home. And whose errand boy is working for the Big Bad around here? No, lemme rephrase; who's the big Evil Plan guy here in Sunnydale, this year?”

“The Mayor.” Giles answered. 

“Yeah. And the Mayor would send Spike on this, same way he did for that Box thingy.” She finished up, nodded her head. “Hence, he did it.”

“That's, um, hardly conclusive evidence of Spike's guilt in this matter, you know.” Wesley pointed out, setting his own fencing blade on the table. 

“But neither is it a bad argument. Vampires usually don't kill people in their places of residence, and the Mayor has been making use of Spike's services for months now. And to someone like Wilkins, there'd be no point in letting that vampire delegate something like this to one of his minions.” Giles pointed out. “But by the same token, why would the Mayor want Professor Worth dead? He's a visiting professor of Geology; hardly anyone that would seem important, on the surface of it.”

“Well, he's got to have a reason. I'm the Mayor. I'm about to become some kind of demon in an Ascension ceremony I've been planning for a hundred years. And now I go out of my way to kill poor harmless Lester for no reason?” Buffy shook her head, “There _has_ to be a reason.”

“Perhaps he was tying up loose ends?” Giles offered, setting his own weapon down. He looked back at the newspaper article. “Professor Worth may have known something Wilkins didn't want to get out.”

“And if the Mayor is playing hide?” Buffy asked, rather than answered, “I think we should go seek.”

Giles nodded. “Just be careful. Spike might show up.”

“I don't think so.” Wesley disagreed. “I mean, assuming that you're both right, and he is the vampire responsible for the murder? According to the Council's records, William the Bloody doesn't bother with that sort of thing. Even if he was ordered to kill Worth, now that the job is done, he'd not linger. It's not his style.”

“I hate to agree with him.” Buffy told Giles, jerking her head back in Wesley's direction a moment, “But I gotta admit, they guy's absolutely right about that. It really _isn't_ his style to hang around, after he's gotten what he wanted. I mean, this time last year? Spike just grabbed Drusilla and ran, while Angel and I were fighting it out in that mansion on Crawford Street...”

“Nevertheless, better to be safe than sorry. Spike may not have killed you in all your encounters, but by the same token, he's survived more encounters with you than any other vampire you've gone up against.” Rupert cautioned her.

“Fine. I'll keep my eyes open.” Buffy placated Giles's worry.

“On a possibly unrelated note,” Wesley started, “Mr. Giles, I've just had an idea for the passages we still haven't translated. We haven't tested them against Makdor's Cipher, correct?”

Immediately, a light-bulb seemed to go off in Giles' head. “Yes. You're absolutely right.” He rushed into his office. “Good Lord, I've no idea why I didn't think of it earlier. But it would fit, both the content and period...and I can even see where it-” 

“So you guys can finally get those pages done? Way to get something at the last minute, guys!” the Slayer said somewhat sarcastically.

Wesley looked pointedly at Buffy, frowning at her somewhat snide comment. “Translating ancient texts such as this is not a matter as simple as driving a stake into a vampire's heart, Miss Summers. Perhaps you would like to try it?” He quirked one eyebrow. 

Buffy frowned a moment, then nodded, acknowledging his point, “Touche. But you'd better be right about this Make-door Cipher thing. Seriously! We're running out of time.”

**May 19th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

School was over for the day, but all the Scoobies were in the Library. 

“While we understand the rather last-minute nature of finally getting these pages translated, the information within has, um, proven to be worth the wait.” Giles explained.

“The first passage details the context of the Mayor's Ascension. A full Solar Eclipse will take place over Sunnydale.” Wesley started. “As it says here: 'Day shall become as night when the jealous twin passages over the brighter sibling.' It's rather clear that refers to the sun and the moon, in my view. Therefore, we can expect that the Mayor will have vampires out in force at the Graduation ceremony.”

“It's sure as hell not going to be easy to deal with all those vamps, and whatever the Mayor's gonna be at the same time.” Faith pointed out. “Which is-?” She looked at the two Watchers.

Giles shrugged, readjusting his glasses. “We're, ah, not sure exactly _what_ he's going to turn into. Which pure demon, precisely. But it is clear that he's going to turn into some kind of Old One, a purebreed demon.”

“Yeah, and that means, what, exactly? I mean, can you dumb it down to our level?” Xander asked, “'Cause, you know, uninitiated into what all this means here.” He looked around and saw no recognition on anyone else's faces either – not even Willow. “Thinking that might include all of us.”

“Well, it's like this. The demons of this modern world are all...lesser beings, to coin a phrase. Tainted by their presence in this dimension, either indirectly...or directly, by having some degree of human ancestry.” Wesley explained. “A pure demon, however, is not tainted that way.”

“And what does that mean?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

“They're...well, they're bigger than anything we've ever seen before.” Giles answered. 

“Bigger?” Oz raised an eyebrow.

“ _Much_ bigger.” Giles confirmed. 

“This just sounds better and better.” Cordelia pointed out snappishly. “Graduation, an eclipse, vampires, the Mayor becoming a giant demon, plus those icky maroon caps and gowns? How much more will we have to deal with?”

“We don't know.” Wesley admitted. 

“Have you found out anything else?” Willow asked, “Or is there any more – I mean, it's not enough to...” 

“Not really.” Giles replied. “There was simply no information regarding the specifics of which kind of pure demon that the Mayor is planning to become. But we're trying to cross reference the details we've found with known pure demons.”

“Well gosh. So this is your little sanctum! I heard this is where you all like to hang out. I have to tell you, it's just so nice to see so many kids interested in reading in this day and age!” 

Everyone turned at once, and Xander felt the bottom of his stomach drop out with dread. The Mayor was here, in the library, walking towards them. 

Everyone fell back, even if just mentally. Oz seemed like he was about to snarl at the man, but Willow took his hand and pulled him back a bit, and Xander instinctively repositioned himself so he was between the Mayor and Cordelia. He glanced around; Amy looked – _Fuck, I haven't seen her that scared since her mom showed up in the library. Why's the Mayor got her that freaked?_ Okay, granted, Xander was scared too, but he wasn't about to collapse into a shivering panic attack, which is what Amy looked like...

And then he noticed that Faith too had moved, standing between the Mayor and Amy. Any thoughts he might have had on that subject were chased out of his head, though, when the Mayor arrived at the table and reached for one of the books resting on it.

_Nominally human or not, I'd be fine with Faith – or anyone – killing **him**._ Xander thought to himself viciously. Unfortunately, the escaped demon spiders when they were trading off the Box of Gavrock had failed to kill him – indeed, Wilkins had soon recovered from their attacks as if he'd never been injured.

Why, oh why did the Big Bad have to be invulnerable?

“So, what is it you all are reading, anyway?” The Mayor looked at the open book and read a passage from it. “And so the beast will walk upon the earth and darkness will follow. The several races of man will be as one in their terror and destruction.” He looked up, a politician's smile on his face. “Now isn't that sweet? Different races coming together.” He set the book back down on the table. “Though I have to say, I don't know if something like that should be approved reading material for you kids. It could give you nightmares, after all.”

“Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Buffy demanded, suddenly speaking up.

The Mayor only chuckled, then looked at Giles. “That's one spunky girl you've raised. I'm sure Spike is going to have a lot of fun eating her.” Xander saw Giles' expression darken and then suddenly, one of the two fencing swords on the table was in his hand and being thrust into the Mayor's torso.

Richard Wilkins staggered back, but was back straight up within moments. “Now that was a little thoughtless! This is a new shirt – bought at taxpayer expense, I might add.” He pulled the sword out of his chest with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other, retrieving a handkerchief as everyone just stared at him. “Violent outbursts, in front of the children? Mr. Giles, you should be ashamed. They look to you to see how to behave, you know.”

“Yeah, well, what I know is that you wanna head out the door, like right now.” Xander heard Faith tell the bad guy, harshly. 

“Really? Well, aren't you a little firebrand!” The Mayor said, turning to Faith, unafraid of the dangerous tone in the dark-haired Slayer's voice. Then suddenly, the Mayor's good-natured tone fell into something much more dark and grim – something that actually sounded like the voice of a murderous villain, rather than someone's friendly, old fashioned uncle. “You killed Alan, don't think I've forgotten. Just for that, once I've Ascended – I'm going to eat _you_.”

Faith didn't say anything. She just looked up at him from her position in front of Amy, the look on her face practically screaming 'just try it'. 

The Mayor didn't stop there. “And then there's Miss Madison. Just my opinion, but you really shouldn't have fallen in with this crowd. You had so much potential.” Xander saw Amy's face blanch even more – and he hadn't thought that was possible – and her knuckles whiten, hands closed in fights tight enough to – he almost wouldn't be surprised if Amy started bleeding from her nails puncturing the skin, given how tight she was balling her fists.

“Still, I suppose I shouldn't have expected-” Wilkins began to say, but was suddenly cut off mid-speech.

Because whatever it was the Mayor had expected – but hadn't got – he was suddenly staggering back again, one hand on his stomach. Faith was on the attack and going after him. She grabbed the Mayor's other hand and spun around him, bringing his arm with her. The bones audibly snapped – Xander couldn't help but wince at the sound. Willow let out sounded like a half-suppressed gasp of surprise or maybe horror at what Faith was doing, but nobody seemed even remotely interested in stopping her.

“Can't kill you? Fine. But we sure as hell can hurt you, you sick fuck.” Faith told the Mayor roughly. She kicked him in the kneecap, and another sickening sound indicated she'd broken yet more bones. She let go of his broken arm and watched him fall away to the ground.

And get up less than a minute later. The Mayor moved his entire previously broken arm, stretching it a little. “Well gosh. Oddly enough, I think I actually needed that! Young lady, you really worked out all the kinks. I don't suppose I could get you to do my other arm? Or maybe try cracking my spine? See, I've had this little crick that's been bothering me all day-” Faith picked up the discarded sword. “Well, alright. If you insist on not being helpful.” He smiled and looked over to Wesley and Giles. “You really need to work on teaching this girl some manners. Only, work quickly. You only have another day.” 

And on that note, the Mayor left.

Everyone looked at Faith speechlessly for a few moments after the Mayor walked out of the room, the double doors into the library still swinging a bit. Wesley was the one who spoke first. 

“Well. I'd imagine that felt quite satisfying?” He straightened his tie a touch and smoothed down his fencing uniform a little. 

“Oh yea.” Faith confirmed. “Bastard had it coming.”

Suddenly, Cordelia started clapping. Xander followed her lead, and then Buffy and even Amy and Oz did so as well. It wasn't a heady, fast applause, but nonetheless, it was applause. Looking somewhat embarrassed, Faith accepted the wordless praise until it died down a few moments later – even Willow, who looked like she was having distinctly mixed feelings about breaking the Mayor's arm and kneecap – was clapping.

Giles cleared his throat, “Satisfying as it was, we do need to refocus our attention on dealing with the Mayor once he, um, ascends tomorrow.”

**May 19th, 1999  
Outside Sunnydale High, Sunnydale**

Not having the time to really sit there and appreciate everything that Faith had done to the Mayor, the group had pretty soon wound their way into a research party. Xander had gone off to get pizza, but everyone else was trying to figure out what the hell the Mayor was going to turn into.

Well, everyone apart from Buffy and Faith. Buffy was too agitated to just sit there and read, and had taken to pacing around the library, driving everyone else batty. It wasn't time just yet for her to head over the dead professor's apartment; that had to wait for nightfall.

Faith, on the other hand, had just ducked out, heading for the outside to have a smoke. 

Taking another drag of her coffin nail – the second since she'd come out – Faith didn't need to turn to figure out that it was Amy coming out of the door behind her. Letting out the smoke in her mouth and lowering her cigarette-holding hand, so she wouldn't get any in Amy's face, Faith turned around.

“Hey.” Amy said softly. Faith wasn't surprised that her friend sounded so...well, nervous? Freaked? Something like that.

“Hey.” Faith offered back. She was silent for a moment, and Amy wasn't saying anything either. “How's it goin' in there?”

“We've got nothing so far. Giles banished Buffy after she wouldn't stop pacing. She's – around somewhere.” Amy's voice was soft, low. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, as if she was hugging herself to ward off freezing cold. “I...” Her voice trailed off a moment, then, “Why- why did you...the Mayor? He's – he's only going to be more – more...I mean, it didn't -” 

“Guy'd already said he was gonna eat me, Amy.” Faith pointed out with a dark chuckle. “Way I see it, once the death threats start, ain't no point trying to play it safe anymore.” She walked closer to her friend. She really sucked at being reassuring – and she hated that. Well...more accurate to say, she hated that she couldn't help her obviously messed up friend. First her mother comes back, only for Amy to kill her – even in self-defense, killin' your own mom...then the Mayor came along and fucked with her some more, and now he comes into the library and fucks with her head in person.

_Girl can't catch a fucking break._

“Look, Amy...I could tell that that son of a bitch was gonna tell everyone 'bout what he did, givin' you that spell, then having you spy for him. He was betting on that whole 'dissension in the ranks' crap giving him an extra edge. And this just ain't the time for that shit,” Honestly, Faith was thinking there might not ever be a time for it. Did it ever really need to come up? Hopefully, once the Mayor's ass was toast, she and her friend could just bury that piece of the past and forget it. Not like anyone else needed to know, not now.

“And...after everything he put you through...and everything else he's done, the sick bastard deserved it. Ya know? I just wish I'd had the chance to go for his family jewels.” Faith cracked a smile and chuckled again, “Woulda loved to see what a Slayer-strength kick coulda done, down there.”

Despite herself, Amy smiled at that, then nodded. “Al...Alright. Thanks.” She unwrapped her arms from around her midsection. “Thanks.” She said again, voice more firm.

“It's cool, Amy.” Faith said. Then, with another smile, she added, “Let's just make sure he gets his ass kicked. He's put a hundred years into this? Then I wanna see the look on his face when it all goes boom.”

**May 19th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

“I'm just lucky you realized Spike was there, damn it.” Buffy told Angel later that night, as she swabbed the now empty arrow wound in his shoulder clean. She really didn’t need to – what passed for a vampiric immune system laughed in the face of germs, after all – but it felt like something she should do, under the circumstances. 

“I still don't get why he tried to kill you with that crossbow, though.” Angel admitted. “I mean, I know Spike. He hates killing from a distance.” He winced a little in pain as he started to move his arm a little. 

“Well, why wouldn't he try something new? I mean, the guy's tangled with me in a fist fight enough times to know that it isn't going to get him anywhere.” Buffy pointed out.

“I know, but – still. He doesn't really think like that.” Angel pointed out, still wincing. “Spike's a creature of habit. It's not like him to do something like this; well, not unless Dru convinced him to do it, and since she isn't around right now...” 

Sitting by the table, going over the report that Buffy had taken from Professor Worth's apartment, Wesley spoke up with a complete non-sequiter. “Fascinating.”

“What is?” Giles asked, putting the roll of bandages down.

“It seems our Professor Worth, just before taking this visiting professor position at UC Sunnydale, was in Hawaii. Digging up old lava beds near a dormant volcano.” He turned the page again, as if searching for a specific passage.

“Not seeing the fascinating yet.” Buffy commented.

Wesley looked at her pointedly for a moment, annoyed by the interruption, but then just shook his head and continued. “He found something underneath one of them. A carcass, buried by an eruption.” He found the passage he was looking for and started marking parts of it with a pen.

“A carcass?” Now Giles was looking at Wesley and the report with some interest.

“A very large one. Professor Worth's theory was that it was some kind of heretofore undiscovered dinosaur. I think we can safely rule that out, however.”

“Agreed.” Giles said, nodding. “It might be something Wilkins would want kept secret, the reason Professor Worth was murdered.” He followed the train of thought, looking pensive. “Given that possibility – might it be the same kind of pure demon that the Mayor is going to turn into? If so, that means-” He cut himself off a moment, then said slowly, “it means that he can be killed, once he's in his demon form.”

“His invulnerability only lasts until after the transformation.” Wesley agreed. “Yes, of course. It would make sense – the trauma on the human body required for a demonic transformation like this would, would...good Lord, you'd _have_ to be invulnerable to survive it!”

“Great. We're saved. All we need is a million tons of molten lava.” Buffy quipped.

“Well, it's a start, anyway-” Angel started, but then he stumbled, landing sprawled on the ground.

“Damn,” Buffy said with a soft laugh, “You've been a real klutz today.” She bent down to help Angel get up – something he was seemingly having trouble with. Suddenly, the Slayer lost the grin as she saw the look on Angel's face – and he fell down again. He looked...well, even paler, and was that _sweat_? On a _vampire_? Then Angel collapsed, 'breathing' heavily.

Buffy was too distracted to notice Giles pick up the pointy end of the broken crossbow bolt and sniff it carefully, or the momentary look of pale shock that passed over Wesley's face after he did likewise, and Pryce saw the vampire's sweaty features. 

“Angel!” She said, calling out to him, then looking up at Giles. “What's happening?!” She demanded, concern for her (ex)boyfriend overriding everything else in her mind.

“I'm not sure – we'll have to run some tests-” Giles started. He hadn't the slightest clue, but it had to be related in some form to the crossbow bolt. It was by far the most likely culprit. _And if that's the case, Buffy may not have actually been the target, after all._ He realized.

“My shoulder's completely numb.” Angel reported, as Buffy propped him up to sit, leaning against the bookshelf. Buffy's hand was on the vampire's forehead, checking his temperature. Wesley looked away after seeing that, biting his lip for a moment, before returning his focus to the steel-tipped bolt.

“You're burning up.” She looked to Giles, confused, “How is this-”

“It's poison...I can feel it...” Angel managed to get out.

“We'll need to get him to the safety of his own bed before sunrise.” Giles told Buffy hurriedly. “I'll call the others.” He added, moving to the phone. 

“No.” Wesley interjected curtly. “Call the Council first. They have every toxin in the known world and then some on file, mystical or otherwise. If anyone knows the cure, they will.” He then made his way towards the door.

“And where are you going, might I ask?” Giles asked his fellow Watcher, wondering why on earth Wesley was fobbing the task onto him. Or why he was letting the younger man do so.

Wesley turned back halfway to look at them. “I, ah, have a theory about the demon Professor Worth found in the lava bed. But I need to check one of the books in my flat. I'm sorry, but we cannot completely abandon this matter to attend to Angel's situation. That might very well be exactly what the Mayor had in mind, with ordering Spike to do what he did.” He turned back and left the library. 

Fortunately for Wesley, Buffy was too distracted with Angel to really notice what it was that the man was saying. And Giles, though he wasn't sure he entirely agreed with the younger Watcher, could easily see the man's point. Not for the first time, his Slayer could focus on nothing but the vampire she loved...

**May 19th, 1999  
Wesley's Apartment, Sunnydale**

Wesley hadn't felt any qualms about lying to Giles or Buffy about why he was leaving. If he was right about what was affecting Angel...and more importantly, where it had come from...Miss Summers might very well react...violently.

_It can't be from my own supply. There's been no sign of any break-ins, and it isn't as if vampire can enter..._ But Wesley had to be sure. It would be folly to assume Wilkins had nothing but the undead on his payroll, and since there were demons everywhere that didn't need an invitation to enter one's home...

He'd told Mr. Giles to call the Council – there was always a remote chance the Watchers would agree to inform his colleague about what poison had infected Angel, and what the cure was. But personally, Wesley very much doubted it would happen. Before coming to Sunnydale, he'd almost certainly have refused to do so as well.

_Bugger it, Travers can complain about Mr. Giles disregarding protocol all he wants. But if there's one thing I've learned after being stationed in Sunnydale over the past few months? It's impossible for one to follow all the rules around here, and make **any** forward progress! _

Unlike Giles, Wesley still believed that the policies of the Watchers Council were largely the correct ones, formed out of centuries upon centuries of experience. But he had nonetheless figured out that in the middle of a war zone like Sunnydale, personal survival had to take precedence over rear-echelon policy. Especially when having to deal with Slayers like Buffy and Faith. 

Deep in his heart of hearts, Wesley was fast coming to realize that the rules were designed for Slayers raised and trained from a young age by the Council. And they did not always take specific situations into account. Such as this one. 

A vampire Angel might be, but as long as his soul was present, he was a useful ally in fighting the good fight. And from what Mr. Giles had said, he was planning on leaving Sunnydale after the Mayor's Ascension, so any threat posed from the Slayer's relationship with him wouldn't last much longer.

But the final battle against the Mayor hadn't been won yet – so there was no good reason to let him die just because he was a vampire. They'd almost certainly need him for the big day. 

_And God knows how Buffy would react if Angel ended up dust, just because the Council did nothing._

Wesley opened the door, slipping the key back into his suit's inside pocket and entering his apartment. It was bare, apart from the shelf lined with books and a spare suit in the closet, some paperwork and letters on the desk. And a small wooden box next to those papers, locked by a numerical combination.

Wesley spun the wheels on the box, opening it once the proper combination was entered. Two dozen small glass vials of liquids and powders were inside. Wesley let out a huge sigh of relief as he examined three of them – the clear liquid inside was still there, in the amounts they'd always had, the mystical seals on the bottles unbroken.

_The Mayor did indeed get his own supply._

Good. Well, no, not good per se, but it certainly simplified matters. Now he just needed find Faith.

**May 19th, 1999  
Cemetery, Sunnydale**

Faith drove her stake into another vampire. With it being nighttime, she'd gone on what might be her last evening patrol before the big day. Lot of agitation to work out, and Slaying always did that for her.

Amy, standing nearby, but covered by a tree, maneuvered a stake around the back of a vampire coming at Faith from behind as the Chosen One engaged a third vamp. 

By sheer luck, these two kills were almost synchronous, and the angry roar-turned-hiss that accompanied most dustings was in stereo. Faith looked around – no more vamps here just yet. She'd found five – and taken out four. So Amy had gotten one.

“Nice shot.” Faith told her friend as she came out from her cover. She picked up the stake and tossed it lightly underhand at Amy, who managed to catch it. “You still working on fire?”

“Working on it,” Amy confirmed, rubbing the side of her head. It took a lot of control to move that stake around – that much focus always gave her a momentary headache. “But I don't think I can really control it just yet. Don't want to hit you with it, after all.” 

Faith nodded, “Good plan. I got burned once by your mom – that’s enough for me.” A pained expression passed across Amy's face, and Faith realized what she'd done wrong. “Aw, crap, sorry.”

Amy shook her head, “It's fine. Not like I didn't know she threw that bolt of fire at you. I didn't-” Faith heard footsteps and held up a hand, silencing Amy.

She didn't feel like there were any vampires nearby – she turned and saw Wesley approaching them. Rolling her eyes, she lowered her stake and walked closer to him. “Not exactly safe taking late night strolls in cemeteries here in Sunnydale, Wes.”

“Yes, well, I am capable of fending off a vampire if needs be.” Wesley said confidently. “But in this case, entering this cemetery was rather unavoidable. Faith, I need you to come with me.” Upon seeing the look on Faith's face, Wesley explained, “Angel's been poisoned.”

“Damn. Fang's at his mansion?” Faith's tone was completely serious. 

Wesley nodded. “Luckily I know the cure, but I rather suspect that Miss Summers is going to be rather upset with the Watchers Council very shortly.” He started walking off and Faith kept pace alongside – Amy jogging to catch up with her, and walking on Faith's other side.

“So what have your people in the mother country done now, then?” The Slayer asked bluntly.

“Mr. Giles has called, or is calling, the Council to get them to determine the cure for the poison in question.” Wesley explained. “Unfortunately, unless I'm very much mistaken, they're going to say no.”

Faith scoffed. “Why? Did they take idiot flakes with their tea instead of crumpets this morning?”

Wesley let out a long sigh, “Faith, please. It's not Council policy to cure vampires. Soul or otherwise. And the truth is that under normal circumstances, I'd agree with that policy. But these are far from normal circumstances. They're about as far from normal as you can get, in fact. Bloody hell; nothing in Sunnydale is ever even remotely normal.” He sounded pissed off at that fact.

_Well, as close to pissed off as a stuffy Brit can get, anyway._ Faith thought to herself. The only time she'd seen him show any real emotion was right after Oz had destroyed the urn. Now, then he had been _pissed._

**May 19th, 1999  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

Buffy walked into the mansion's ballroom – virtually empty though it was – when she heard the front door open. Giles walked in, a frown on his face.

“Did you- what did the Council say?” She asked, softly, dreading the answer she expected on seeing the look on his face – angry at it...

“They refused to help.” Giles told her, sounding sour and just a touch angry himself. “'It is not Council policy to cure vampires.'” Giles quoted, “Bloody idiots.” He half-muttered. 

“But didn't you – this isn't some ordinary – this is Angel! Did you _explain_ that to them?” Buffy demanded, shoving everything but her anger aside. 

“I did. Repeatedly.” Giles confirmed. “They still refused to help.”

“Then call them again.” Buffy ground out, her lips tight. It wasn't Giles' fault. She knew that. She shouldn't be angry at him.

“It won't work, Buffy, there's no point.” Giles said softly. “I don't like this any more than you do. The others are in the library looking for more information, trying to find something in the books...but, uh, I'm afraid the Council isn't going to tell us how to cure Angel.”

“Well, I'm not going to just stand here and watch the man I love die! If the Council is saying I should, then they can go to hell!” Buffy protested, uncrossing her arms, flailing them just a touch in anger. “You call the Council back,” suddenly, her tone was ice. “You call them back and tell them that if they don't help, then I quit. They can try to still give orders to Faith if they want, but I'm officially done with those assholes.”

Giles was about to say something, but before he could, Wesley walked into the room, Faith and Amy close behind him. 

“Miss Summers, if I may – I don't think you need to take such a rash action, at least not yet.” The junior Watcher told her carefully.

“Shut **up** , Wesley!” Buffy snapped at him. Giles got a pass – he'd been here for her for almost two and a half years. He didn't want Angel to die – he was... but _Wesley_? The guy was an idiot, someone who boasted about killing vampires under controlled circumstances, someone who had wanted to leave Willow to die – he was as bad as the rest of the damn Council. “You can go to hell with your Council, damn it!”

“Perhaps. But as I was saying, in this case, the Council's decision not to assist in this matter is incorrect.” Wesley told her, seemingly unfazed by her anger. Buffy almost physically staggered at the shock of his words. Did that mean-? 

As Wesley continued, Buffy realized that yes, the guy actually did mean that. She almost missed his next words as Pryce said, “I know exactly what toxin was used on Angel, and what's more, I know how to cure it.” 

Buffy saw an expression on Faith's face that didn't make any sense to her; her mystical sibling almost looked halfway proud of her Watcher – a sort of 'hey, look what my guy knows that yours doesn't' kind of thing...it was...

_It's really weird._

“You do? Well – good! Then what is it?!” She demanded, though in a lower voice than before.

“Your blood, Buffy.” Wesley answered. “The toxin is known, in English, as 'Killer of the Dead.' The only known cure is the blood of a Slayer.”

Buffy – she blanked out for a moment. Hearing something like that was...  

_I can do this..._

Back when...when Angelus had been around, that had been her worst nightmare...the thought that had kept her up at nights...something which, to be honest, had terrified her. Letting Angel drink her blood. And last Christmas, she had learned first-hand that his blood-lust still existed, he still wanted her that way...

_But this is Angel. The man I love!_

“How much of her blood?” Giles asked Wesley, looking pointedly at the younger man.

“In this case – well, guessing from the speed of Angel's symptoms and their severity, I'd say roughly three pints. Survivable, especially with Slayer healing, but you'll want to have a lot of fluids on hand, immediately afterwards.” Wesley answered, frowning. “However, there is another consideration – in his current state, Angel is not going to be able to simply withdraw his fangs from your neck after taking the three pints in question. Like it or not, his instincts will almost certainly force him to keep going and take whatever blood he can. And there's no guarantee you'll be able to force him off of you at that point, either. Which is why,” He finished, “you'll need Faith on hand, to make sure he doesn't take too much of your blood.”

Buffy nodded, then looked to Faith.

“Don't worry B.” Faith told her confidently. “I've got your back.”

Buffy looked to Giles, who just said, softly, “It's Angel, Buffy, I know. You'll do what you must in order to save him, and there's nothing I or anyone else can say to convince you otherwise. Just – be careful.”

“You should both be recovered by tomorrow morning.” Wesley told Buffy, still frowning. “In the meantime, Mr. Giles...I suggest we return to the high school. We still have to figure out what to do about the Mayor.”

Giles nodded. 

**May 19th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

With nothing for them to do in the mansion – Giles was in no mood to watch Angel feed on the girl he'd come to see as a pseudo-daughter, and Wesley was more concerned with the Ascension anyway – the two Watchers, as well as Amy, were back in the library, joining Willow, Oz, Xander and Cordelia in trying to figure out what the hell they were to do about the Mayor and the demon that he would turn into in less than 24 hours' time.

“It took a volcano to kill this thing the last time.” Xander complained. “Too bad we're in the wrong state to hope for an eruption. Unless you guys know how to teleport Vesuvius over here, or something?” He looked over at Willow and Amy – Willow at the computer, Amy working on searching one of the books.

The two witches shook their heads, but then Willow looked up, “Giles, I think I found something. It's a legend from the natives on that Hawaiian island where the dead demon was found. Some anthropologist heard about it, and recorded a translation of it. From the dates-” Giles came up behind her, looking at the computer screen.

“That would place it, time-wise, in the vicinity of when the volcano is believed to have erupted.” He read off the screen, “a great beast of evil, of a size unseen, Ollokai.” Giles straightened up and put his hand on his chin, thinking.

“Ollokai,” Rupert murmured, wondering why the name sounded familiar. Then, “Ah. It might be a corrupted form of Olvikan.”

“Olvikan?” Oz asked, looking up from his book as Giles made his way to one of the bookshelves. 

“Olvikan.” Giles confirmed, “It's a demon, very old. I didn't know it was old enough to qualify as a pure demon...” He paused at the shelf trying to remember which book he'd seen the mention. “What book was it...”

Wesley was pondering as well, before he said, “Wasn't Olvikan mentioned in the _Annals of Aristocles of Delos_?”

“Yes! Of course!” Giles immediately grabbed the book off the shelf.

“Boy, wouldn't we be in a bad shape if someone had checked that one out.” Cordelia pointed out, happily putting down the tome she'd been working through. 

“Quite...and I believe there's a picture,” Giles walked towards the table and set the book in the center as he paged through it. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and folded out a sort of inset centerfold...then again.

“Well...” Wesley said after a moment, looking rather shocked.

“I think we're gonna need a bigger boat.” Xander said, after no one else said anything for a minute. He knew he was quoting Jaws, totally stealing the line – but hell, if there was ever a time that line fit, it was now.

_Holy fuck, but look at the size of that thing. If this is what the Mayor's gonna become tomorrow, well...fuck._


	23. Episode 22: Goodbye Sunnydale High

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta

Here we are. The last episode of Iron Coin Chronicles. Well, for the first season of ICC, anyway. But this episode doesn't quite represent the end of the first season. In the same way that I had a 'trailer' serving as a prologue, there will be a 'teaser' that serves as an epilogue – as well as giving a bit of a tease (as the name would suggest) as to what will be happening in Iron Coin Chronicles Season Two.

I will confess that Cordelia's little rant midway through the chapter was somewhat inspired by a little speech/rant Cordelia gave in the fic, Backstage 42, 'Rough Trade' by Aadler. Far from the same, but coming from a similar place for the character, and I (probably) wouldn't have thought of writing it if I hadn't read Backstage 42 earlier and had that scene simmering in the back of my mind. All credit where credit is due, then. If you haven't read Backstage 42, or others of Aadler's fics, you should. They're quite enjoyable, and are not dedicated to any one character or pairing, but rather a spectrum across Angel and Buffy's cast and seasons.

Finally, let it be known that this Episode, and in fact, the entirety of the first Season of The Iron Coin Chronicles, has been brought to you by caffeine. 

Caffeine: For when what you really want is to be so antsy and jittery the only thing left to do is write.

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Episode 22: Goodbye Sunnydale High

**May 20th, 1999  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

Buffy woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a strange pain in her wrist...and then the memories came rushing back, hitting her with all the force of a locomotive.

_“Buffy- no...” Angel tried to force her wrist away from his mouth..._

_“It's the only way...” Buffy swallowed – to think that she was actually doing this...God..._

_“If I do, I'll kill you...” He managed to get out, his expression one of agony._

_“No, you won't.” Faith said from the other side of the bed. “Seriously, guy. I'll be here makin' sure that you two – well, y'know, that it doesn't get that far.”_

_“Angel, I'm not going to just stand around and watch you die. Not when I can stop it.” Buffy spoke with more firmness than she felt._

_He still refused, shaking his head, so she started slapping him, then punching him in the face until the vampire face came out, those demonic yellow eyes staring at her hungrily..._

She was surprised her wrist still hurt – starting to get up, Buffy swallowed a little at the pain, then realized just how dry her throat was. She'd – she'd drunk a lot, after Faith had gotten Angel away from her wrist, literally dragging him off to prevent her former honey from draining her dry...but apparently, it hadn't been enough. The Slayer looked around, trying to get her bearings, even though she knew where she was – 

There was a bottle of water sitting on the side-table next to the bed. Silently thanking Faith, Buffy unscrewed the lid and drank – surprising herself by finishing the entire bottle in a minute. 

_Damn, I'm still thirsty._

She felt Angel moving next to her, and she looked over to him as he opened his eyes – wide and shocked!

“Buffy!” He saw her there, sitting up...saw the bandage on her wrist. “Are you-?” He started to say, a note of wild panic in his voice.

“I'm fine.” She put a hand on her throat lightly, “Majorly thirsty, but I'm more or less okay. Perks of being a Slayer, I guess.” She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been half-holding.

Angel sat up and took her hand, “Buffy, I- I'm so sorry, I...” His voice was soft, light, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he didn't speak softly.

“You don't need to apologize.” Buffy told him firmly. “ _I'm_ the one who made you drink my blood, remember?” _And I'd do it again, if I had to._

“You shouldn't have had to do that.” Angel whispered, so low that she could barely hear him. “And I do need to apologize for how I...”He trailed off. 

Buffy inwardly shivered, knowing what her former lover was trying to say. When the Master had drunk from her, two years ago...it had been just pain...nothing else. But with Angel...

There'd been pain...but more than that – there had been a rush she'd never felt before. Kinda like the night they'd made love, come to think of it – pain and pleasure and sex and –

Buffy shook her head a little, forcing that thought out of her mind. She couldn't deal with that right now.

There were other things to deal with. The Mayor was Ascending tomorrow. There were, for obvious reasons, no windows in Angel's bedroom – she didn't know if it was daylight, or...

“The sun isn't out yet.” Angel told her. She looked at him, confused as to how he'd just know that. “A vampire can practically smell the sun coming, long before dawn. You can probably make it back to your house, before your mom find out you-”

“Angel,” Buffy cut him off, “I'm not going to just-”

Now Angel interrupted. “I'm fine, Buffy. But after what happened, I...I need a little bit of – of alone time. Y'know? With- without you here...whether you wanted me to do it or not, what I did...I just can't – I can't have you so close to me. Not right now. Not...not for a few hours...I...”

Swallowing dryly, Buffy nodded, understanding what he meant – and hating it that she did. “Alright. Just...make sure you're at the school around noon.” She had a plan – okay, not exactly a plan as such. But something kind of plan-shaped. “You can still get to the library through the tunnels, right?”

After a moment, he nodded. “It'll take some doing, but I can manage.” Angel told her.

Buffy nodded again in turn and then slowly got out of bed, her hand falling away from her neck. Still wearing the clothes from earlier, Buffy made her way into the ballroom – Faith was standing by the door, leaning against the inside of the frame.

“Were you here the entire time?” 

Faith shook her head, “Once I was sure Fang was done with you, I went out and killed a few more vamps. Only a few were out lookin' for a meal, though. Thinkin' that they know that something's going down and don't want to get caught up.”

“Maybe. Or else they're getting ready for helping the Mayor at Graduation.” Buffy suggested. 

“Or that, yeah. Just gotta hope he doesn't have all the vamps in this town on his side. That'd suck.”

“Yeah. Let's hope.” Buffy agreed. “Faith, while I was- while I was out cold, I kinda had an idea. For dealing with the Mayor.”

“Whatcha got?” Faith asked, and then when Buffy didn't reply she added, “You heading out?”

“Yea.” Buffy led Faith out of the mansion. “And as for the idea...look, it took a volcanic eruption to kill this kind of demon before. We don't have one of those. But I couldn't help thinking, what if we just blew him up?”

“Blew him up?” Faith cracked a smile and chuckled – then her eyes went wide, “Shit, B, you're actually serious?”

“Very.” Buffy confirmed with a nod. She shrugged, “Hey, I stopped the Judge with a rocket launcher. Sometimes, you just have to go with the explosive option.” 

Faith laughed, “I told Amy I was looking forward to the look on his face when his hundred years of plannin' went boom. Just didn't expect it to be so literal. Know how you're gonna-?”

Buffy shook her head, “Still trying to work that part out. But Willow and Oz should be able to figure out how to make something.”

“Red and Wolf-boy? Huh. Yeah. Well, probably.” Faith agreed. “You know Spike's gonna be there.”

“I can handle him.” Buffy said, nodding. “But unless I get a lucky hit, he's going to be all I can handle during the fight.” 

“And Dick is going to try to eat me. Still fuzzy on if it's gonna be whole or in pieces.” She shrugged, “Well, looks like we both got our dance cards booked solid for this shindig. Figure that means the rest of the gang are going to be stuck with all the other vamps.”

“Not just the rest of us. If the Mayor's going to bring an army of vamps to this fight, we need our own army.”

Faith stopped walking, and then looked incredulously at Buffy, “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“The rest of the graduating senior class? Yea.” Buffy confirmed. “I've got something plan-shaped.”

“And when are you filling in the rest of the space between the lines?” 

“Noon, in the library.”

Faith nodded, “I'll be there.”

**May 20th, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

All of them, including Angel, were in the library when Buffy told them the first part of her plan-shaped idea.

“You want to blow up the Mayor? Like, with explosives?” Xander asked, eyebrows raised. “Just so we're clear.”

“It's...ambitious.” Oz said after a moment.

“I know; as plans go, it's kinda crazy.” Buffy agreed. “But I'm not sure there's a better option, short of finding the nearest convenient active volcano and bringing it here.”

“Well, I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan.” Cordelia offered from her position by the railing to the upper level.

“We could attack the Mayor with hummus.” Oz suggested, deadpan.

“I stand corrected.” Cordelia admitted, staring at him weirdly. 

“Just keepin' it in perspective.” Oz replied.

“Appreciated,” Cordelia snarked, then she looked back at Buffy, “But crazy or not, I think you're right. Best option we have.”

“How exactly are we going to blow him up, though?” Willow asked, “I mean, I guess Oz and I can put something together...like if we're talking kerosene, fertilizer and maybe even some C4 or dynamite...but nothing really mobile. How do we make sure the Mayor gets all blowed up, when the time comes?”

Suddenly, it dawned on Xander. _The vision from the Iron Coin. Faith taunting the Mayor..._

“Get him to chase Faith over to where we plant the bomb.” He interjected. 

All eyes were on him, including Faith's. “And you're volunteering _me_ for this, why?” 

“Because he hates you. When he was in here yesterday – we all saw how incredibly pissed he got, when he saw you, talked about Finch dying.” Xander pointed out, “This is Mayor Richard Wilkins. The man acts like your favorite uncle, all chipper and charming, and he's been around for a hundred years; time enough to perfect the act. And yet suddenly, he gets upset enough to show it when he's threatening you? He must've had some serious investment in the guy!”

“And what,” Cordelia interrupted, “is the point you're getting to”

“The Mayor may have been around for over a century, but nonetheless, Wilkins still suffers from human weakness.” Wesley interjected, looking like he'd just had an epiphany. “In this case, the sin of pride. Faith took something from him, deprived him of an asset – and the man's ego simply won't stand for something like that. Textbook psychological response.” 

Reluctantly, Faith nodded in agreement – she'd seen the hate in the Mayor's eyes for those few moments, before he'd moved on to fucking with Amy's head some more. “So, what, I taunt him, get him mad and have him chase me. Okay, doable. But chase me where?”

Xander didn't have an answer to that one, but Oz did.

“The library.” The werewolf supplied. Willow, Giles and Wesley all did a double take at the suggestion.

“Excuse me?” Giles looked at Oz with something approximating a glare. “You want to blow up my library?”

“He's just joking.” Willow insisted. She elbowed her boyfriend lightly, “Tell him you're joking!”

Oz shook his head, “Not joking. Way I see it, we need a small, confined space. Library's small enough – when it all goes boom in the Mayor's face...” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Oz has got a point. I mean, where else in the school will we be able to hide a bomb until tomorrow?” Cordelia pointed out. “Hello? No one apart from us ever comes into this library, especially not after finals are done!”

“But-” Giles started to protest, looking to Wesley for support.

“I'm not exactly fond of the idea either, Mr. Giles. But if we are going to attempt to assassinate the ascended Mayor Wilkins with high-powered explosives...we'll need a secure location from which to do it. Besides, even if we used one of the classrooms nearby – well, I imagine the building will suffer enough damage to render the library quite useless, anyway.”

“I think he just said yes to the plan.” Faith interpreted. Wesley just pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away. 

“Alright.” Giles conceded. “Fine. We set up some sort of explosive device in the library, and Faith tricks the Mayor into following her in here. Then what, Faith jumps out the window and someone activates the bomb?” Buffy nodded. “But what about the Mayor's vampires? They're, um, definitely going to be a problem.”

“Especially if Faith is getting the Mayor to chase her.” Wesley started, “And from what he said yesterday, Miss Summers, Spike is going to come after _you_ first and foremost.”

“I know.” Buffy took a breath, “That's the other part of the...plan.” She looked over to Xander. “How much of Halloween Soldier Guy do you still have in your head?”

“Some. Not much. So are we talking rocket launcher, or-” Xander said after a moment.

Buffy shook her head, cutting him off at once. “That's not gonna cut it this time, and besides, there's going to be a lot of students present at Graduation. If they don't know what to expect, most of them are gonna die, whatever we do. So I figure, let's tell them what's going to happen. Let's go to war with an army on _our_ side, for once.”

“In Sunnydale? Everyone ignores all the crazy crap that happens around here!” Cordelia pointed out.

“Yeah, but the senior class did vote Buffy 'Class Protector'.” Amy pointed out. “I mean, even I voted for her for that.” She looked at the other non-Slayer students in the room, “Didn't you guys?”

“I didn't – I didn't even know about it.” Willow admitted. 

“Me neither.” Xander agreed.

“Same here.” Cordelia shrugged, as Oz did likewise. 

“My point, though,” Amy shook her head, “Is that they know _something_ is off around here, in Sunnydale. Maybe it won't last – but...one day of battle? I think we might be able to make it work.”

“That's what I'm hoping.” Buffy agreed. She looked to Giles. “If we can get them organized, we'll need weapons. Lots of them. Anything we can use to fight with.” Giles nodded.

“We have a day to get everyone on-board with this and to make the bomb.” the older Slayer finished. “We need to do this quickly, and we need to do this right.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Faith said, pulling out her stake and twirling it in her hand a moment. “So where do we start?”

“Gather as many of the students as we can in the school gym in, say...an hour. Cordelia, you go get your 'Cordettes'.” Cordelia made a face at that – just about all of them had completely abandoned her by now. “I know, I don't like them either.” Buffy agreed, “But they're still the popular in-crowd. If we can get them on-board-”

Cordelia nodded with a frown, “Yea. I get it. Greater good, and all that. All right, consider it done.”

“Just like that?” Wesley asked doubtfully.

Cordelia gave him her haughtiest stare. “I know all their secrets. And deep down, they're still terrified of me.” 

Buffy nodded back and turned to Willow, “What about Percy? Think you could convince him to-”  
Willow nodded, “I-I think so. He was kinda grateful for my help when it came to him passing History, even if that poopy-head treated me like dirt 'til Oz gave him that Look.”

“That look? What look?” Wes asked, looking perplexed. 

“Don't mess with my girl.” Oz replied promptly, earning himself a brilliant smile from the red-haired witch.

“Okay, good. Uh, guess that covers about half the jock angle. Xander, I hate to ask you this, but Larry?” Buffy asked, switching her focus to Harris.

Xander face-palmed a moment, then looked up at her and nodded. 

“I'll talk to Devon, recruit who we can from the music scene.” Oz volunteered.

“I'll talk to Michael Czajak.” Amy suggested. “And Jonathan Levinson, we should definitely cover the geek side of the street. I mean, it won't be all that many people; but you said every student, right?”

“Every student.” Buffy confirmed with another nod. “Okay. We get everyone we can to the school gym and brief them. Once we have everyone there, and explained what's what – it's up to you, Xander.”

“Me?” Xander looked up, shocked, his hand falling to his pocket – where the Iron Coin currently rested. 

“Yea. You're my Key Guy here. This isn't gonna be just some small fight against Sunnydale's vamps. This is going to be more like a military operation. And you've got what you know from that...soldier-guy.”

Xander shook his head, “Again, that's not much – he wasn't an officer, Buffy. Private Harris, remember?”

“Sure, but it's more than I have.” Buffy replied. “You've gotta do this, Xander. I believe in you.” She told him reassuringly – and believing it. Xander wasn't the right guy for the front lines in this sort of war, granted – he was more rear guard support. He could fight, especially since he'd been trying to get better – but still, her Xander-shaped friend simply wasn't a Slayer. Or a vampire with a soul. 

Nonetheless, she knew Harris could organize this. Organize the students. Get them ready for war. 

“Alright. Key-guy.” Xander took a breath. _Holy shit – how the hell am I gonna do-_ Xander forced that thought down, “Alright – yea...pride...humility and...yep, there it is, the mind-numbing terror.” He took another breath and forced it out slowly. “Okay. I'm on it.” 

“We just need to keep the vampires at bay, long enough to deal with the Mayor...and hopefully Spike,” Buffy added in a somewhat lower tone, “and then all the students need to be able to escape.”

“Got it.” Xander confirmed. 

“Willow, Oz, once we're done with telling everyone what's going on, you need to start working on the bomb – figure out exactly what you need, and where we can get it.” The hacker-witch and her boyfriend nodded. Buffy then turned to Angel, who had been sitting silently out of the reach of the light coming in from the skylight – the windows on the walls had had the blinds pulled down, at least. “Angel, you're going to need to be in the gym. Class Protector or not, some of them are going to need to see proof to really believe what's going on.”

Angel hesitated for a moment, then nodded. 

“Let's get to work.”

**May 20th, 1999  
Gym, Sunnydale High**

It had taken some doing, but the quiet murmur had spread across the student body at the speed of gossip. By the time the hour in question had passed, nearly all of the senior class was in the gym, milling about, talking in normal-volume and confused tones. Whether it was Harmony or the other Cordettes, or Percy, or Larry, or any other student that had seen fit to come here, they knew two things. It had to do with Buffy, and it had to do with tomorrow's graduation ceremony. 

Buffy walked into the gym through the side door, flanked by Xander and Angel just behind her. 

“Everyone! Quiet!” She called out loud enough to be heard over the babble of conversations, but not yelling.

Surprisingly, the command was obeyed. Everyone quieted down, and Buffy actually had everyone's attention.

“I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. Short version? The Graduation ceremony tomorrow isn't going to go as planned.” She took a breath. “Look. You all know how Sunnydale isn't normal. Like Jonathan said during Prom Night, like the Prom committee wrote for him to say – Sunnydale High isn't like other high schools. Weird stuff happens here.” She smiled, “Not counting Snyder, most of it can be explained.” There was a brief ripple of laughter at that. “Question. How many of you know people who, according to the police reports, have died of barbeque fork attacks to the neck, or gangs high on PCP?”

Almost every hand in the room was raised – Xander raised his own hand along with them.

“Okay, question part two. How many of you actually _believe_ that? I mean really, really _believe_ it?”

It took about fifteen seconds, but eventually the hand of every student in the room – even Harmony – dropped down.

“Good. Because it wasn't either of those things. It's been vampires. It's always been vampires.” 

And then – despite the admission...the lack of belief of the official stories – the murmurs of incredulity, disbelief – they were indistinct at first, but the Scoobies could tell that most people didn't believe the Slayer's words.

Buffy didn't give them any time for that to build up. She nodded to Angel. The vampire donned his game face, suddenly, with a loud snarl. More than one student recoiled with a loud gasp, but it was to their credit that none of them actually fainted.

“This is a vampire. Sunnydale is full of them – it has been, since the day it was founded. Maybe even before.” Buffy took a deep breath, “I kill vampires. Slay them. It's what I do. Angel is- he's not an evil vampire. Special case. But all the rest of them-” She looked at everyone a moment, “Well, let's just say the number of people they've killed over the years – people you all knew – should be all the answer you need.”

“So what's this about, then?” One of the students - Hogan Martin called out. “Even if this is real, and not some-” 

“It's real.” Another female student interrupted, “For God's sake, people!” Nancy Doyle demanded, looking at everyone she could, “We've all lived in this town long enough – this is real. This is where we live.” She looked back towards Buffy. “What do you need?”

“Vampires are going to attack the graduation ceremony tomorrow.” Buffy told everyone. “I'm going to need your help to stop them.”

Angel dropped his game face and resumed his human mask. “And before any of you say something about daytime – we don't have to sleep in the day. Yes, the sun burns us. But-”

“The sun won't be a problem, as far as the undead will be concerned. There's going to be an eclipse tomorrow, right at the start of the ceremony.” Buffy concluded for Angel. “I can fight vampires, and I can win. But there's only so many I can fight at once. And that's why we need you.” 

“Larry.” Xander said, stepping forward. “Hit Angel.” Angel looked at Xander, started to say something, but Buffy elbowed him in the side and the vampire quickly shut up. 

Larry considered a moment, then came out of the crowd and came towards Angel. He lunged out with a pretty good punch – but Angel caught his arm and sent him to the ground with frightening ease. 

“Buffy can take on vampires easy. That's 'cause she's...special. Pretty much everyone else – I don't care how strong you are! Frontal attack is not gonna cut it, if you just go at them like you would a mugger or any other person.” Xander told them. He looked around in the crowd, then pointed to another jock on the football team. “You want to try him?”

Cody Weinberg considered it for a moment, then, taking a breath, nodded. “What the hell.” He went at Angel – and truth be told, he did a little better than Larry. Having seen what had happened with the quarterback, he tried for a more creative approach, but all it meant was it took him a second longer to fall on the ground. 

“If you have a choice, the best solution,” Buffy cut in, “is to run like hell, and not fight a vampire in the first place. But tomorrow, no one is going to have a choice. So like Xander said, don't fight them like you would a person.”

“Fight them like they're someone at least five times stronger than you are.” Xander confirmed, “Which means fight in teams, and have a weapon. Anything to try and keep some distance between your neck and the vampire's fangs.”

“How do we- uh, how exactly do we kill them?” Nancy asked worriedly. 

“Fire, decapitation, sunlight, stake in the heart.” Buffy rattled off. “Crosses and holy water bother them, so they're good to have in a pinch, but forget the idea that garlic will stop them. It doesn't.” 

There was a moment of silence, then Hogan said slowly, “You're not making it look like we've got much of a chance, here.”

“I can't promise you'll all make it out alive. But I can promise that if you don't come to Graduation prepared and ready to fight back, then you will die.” Buffy told them all flatly, uninterested in beating around the bush. “Because vampires aren't the only thing that'll be attacking the graduation ceremony tomorrow.”

**May 20th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Things in the gym had gone...

Well, they'd gone about as well as one might expect. Many of the students had looked scared after hearing about the Mayor's Ascension, and one of them had asked why they shouldn't all just not show up for the ceremony. Run for the hills while they still could, so to speak. It had taken Cordelia less than ten seconds to make the girl realize that that wasn't an option; no one could run for it, the town would almost certainly be sealed off from the outside world thanks to all the cops the Mayor had on his personal payroll. Well, that and the fact that Snyder had said whoever wasn't at the ceremony tomorrow, wouldn't receive their high school diploma...

Giles had come through as best he could on the weapons, and some of the kids had been able to get things from their parents' houses – one guy even had a harpoon gun.

Granted, the revelation that the Mayor was going to turn into a gigantic demon-snake and eat them all had taken some convincing, and Xander was pretty sure that at least half the students were still not true believers on that. On the vampire subject, they had pretty much everyone more or less convinced after Angel took on three football jocks at once. In fact, one of those meat-heads had shaken his head and said, “Oh, man! We sure coulda used you on the team this year!” 

_Too bad Deadboy wasn't up for a sunlight demonstration..._ Xander smirked at that memory. He'd thought Angel should stick his hand out the window near the back and let it burn for a few seconds, to settle any doubts once and for all. _Funnily enough, though, he wasn't partial to the idea._ And Buffy had nixed it. 

But still...

Well, the other students had weapons, he'd gone over the very basic plan he'd come up with all of them – and...they'd practiced what they could in the time they'd had, before school was over for the day. 

On the surprising side of things, some of the senior class had managed to recruit some of their older siblings, or graduated friends, into the fight. That had caused some re-arranging in his battle-plan, but having them attack the vampires from behind, with Angel at their head...

Dislike Angel as he still did – though with much less vehemence, these days – the vampire was still better than everyone but Buffy and Faith in a fight. He couldn't not make use of that.

Harris let out a sigh, and tried to refocus his mind on the plan, on the way the fight would be supposed to go tomorrow. As long as he thought about that, and not about...why there needed to be a plan, he could put the mind-numbing terror to the side for a bit. 

Not just the terror at – well...giant mayor-snake trying to eat them all...but...

_It's my plan. Well, my battle plan. This all goes pear-shaped, it's pretty much my fault._

Cordelia was spending a bit of time with her friend Aura – the only one of the Cordettes to still be friends with her, after it was discovered just how far she'd fallen from the top of the totem pole. Last chance they'd have to hang – Aura had long since talked her parents into leaving Sunnydale once she graduated, apparently she and her family would be gone within days of the formal end of her high school education. 

_Assuming we make it out of this mess alive._

There it was again – the mind-numbing terror. Again.

Xander forced himself to take a deep breath. His hand went to the coin in his pocket. He'd not foreseen anything else but those two visions of Buffy and Faith – the former fighting Spike, the latter taunting the Mayor. The why he understood now...

_Was that why Fate wanted Faith to kill the Deputy Mayor?_ Trying to understand whatever larger plan that the forces of Order had was something he'd long since given up on, granted...but he still tried to figure out whatever it was that they had planned for his friends, the people around him....

If...if he _had_ managed to stop Faith from killing Alan Finch that night, somehow – would...how would they have been able to lure the Mayor into the killing zone? Most likely, they wouldn't be able to. 

Of course, if Finch hadn't died in that alley, God only knew what else would have gone differently. 

“You're finally starting to catch on, kid.” 

Xander turned at the sound of the all too familiar voice – though one he hadn't heard in a few months, now. The Jester was standing there; black suit, blue on blue eyes, a pair of dice in his hands. He threw them and they landed at Xander's feet, coming up with two sixes. 

“Boxcars!” The Jester actually pumped the air with his fist and reaching out, he somehow pulled the dice back into his hand, as if they were on an elastic band or something. 

“Been a while since I've seen you around.” Xander said simply, his hand coming away from the Iron Coin.

“From your perspective? I suppose so. Watching you do your thing to fuck around with Fate – though you really haven't been doing it that much, lately – takes a slightly more insignificant proportion of my energy and focus than coming down to talk to you. Like I told you before: you're amusing, but you're still insignificant.” The Jester rolled the dice again, letting them land somewhere mid-air, as if an invisible table stood before him.

“So I'm only worth as much work as I am fun?” Xander raised an eyebrow, standing up straight to look at the Jester. 

“Now you're getting it.” The Jester agreed with a laugh. 

“If I haven't been screwing with Fate's plans as much as you'd like recently...then what? Are you here to get the coin back?” He took it out of his pocket, but he didn't make any move to offer it to the Jester.

The Jester laughed. “Of course not, kid. The fun's just getting started – thing is, you took their plans so far off the rails with just a few actions – some of your changes are going to be sticking around for years to come. That'll be plenty fun to watch.” He scooped up the dice, and suddenly they vanished, replaced by a deck of cards which he started dealing out – for a game of solitaire, of all things – on that 'invisible table' in front of him. 

“Good to know.” _I think._

“Oh, don't get so full of yourself just yet. You may have come out ahead so far – in fact, you don't want to know how this year would have gone for you, if I hadn't shown up in your life – but you've laid a lot of land mines for your friends in the future. I can't wait to see them go off.” He laughed again.

Xander shrugged, speaking with far more confidence than he felt. “Well, hey. You warned me right from the start how it wouldn't always work out well, from my perspective. But I can either act on the information I have, or let bad things happen to my friends. Things I _know_ will happen. So I'm not going to just sit around and do nothing.”

Once again, the Jester burst into laughter – indeed, he even threw his head back, almost howling in amusement. “Ah, yes, and _that's_ why I picked you for being the bearer of my coin. I mean, there's a whole bunch of mortals in this tiny slice of reality alone I could have picked for it, when I decided – on a whim – to remove a sliver of a fragment of a piece of what you know as the Iron Coin and send it down into this dimension. But you – I knew there wasn't going to be any qualms on your part, about if it was okay to change the future, about playing God...no over-analyzing about what would happen.”

The Jester finished dealing the cards and started playing solitaire, without even looking at the cards, or even away from Xander.

“You just do what you do.” The Jester finished.

“Yeah, and it's not like you didn't already know that. So...what are you here to talk to me about? Or is there not meant to be a point, this time?” The Jester had shown up before to talk to him, seemingly about nothing. _Or, nothing so far as I could tell..._

“Like I said, you came out ahead this year. And, far as Fate's response so far goes, you got off pretty lightly. Sure, they tried to get you to stop with death threats. Didn't work.” The Jester smiled, and Xander had to fight down his sudden fury at the flippant way the Jester dismissed his dad's death. “But the tiny portion of Fate's attention that's been focused on this...theater of operations, to borrow a phrase...it's been wondering what to do about you, you might say. The Librarian had his idea of killing off your father, for example, to get you to cooperate. Well, he's always been a rather heavy-handed little prick. Likes to pretend that there are rules which apply to everyone, even me. But others...well, they've got a much subtler idea. And one that'll be a lot of fun to watch.”

“Oh? So I don't have to worry about them killing my mom, then?” Xander asked, trying to mask the sudden worry in his voice.

The Jester shrugged, “If that happens, it won't be because Fate's trying to 'punish' you. Granted, you can foresee what they've gotten planned – and you can change it. But they can always rewrite that portion of other people's books. Make it so the end result is still the same. Say for example that girlfriend of yours gets mugged one day, on her way home from college. So you go pick her up in your car, instead. But then you get side-swiped in a car crash and she ends up just as badly hurt, only from a different cause.” He chuckled, “It ain't going to be easy to keep up with, I can promise you that.”

The cards before the Jester suddenly vanished as he finished the game, all the cards in their suit-appropriate piles. “So, the coin's still yours. Have fun with it.” The Jester laughed again, fading from view – but the sound of his laughter remained for a few seconds more.

Xander slowly let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

_Well, fuck. Now I have something else to panic about._

**May 20th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

It was almost midnight, but Xander could tell that Cordelia wasn't asleep. 

It wasn't surprising...tomorrow...

Tomorrow, they could both be dead.

“Cordy?” He asked gently, propping himself on an elbow a moment, looking over at her.

After a moment, Cordelia opened her eyes and then turned over so she could look at him. “Yea?” She asked, voice soft...he could see the worry in her eyes. 

“I-” He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I can't sleep, and I figured neither could you. I just...do you really think we're going to make it through this? I mean...really believe it?”

Cordelia didn't answer for a moment, then, “Do you know why I started hanging with the Library loser crowd, even before we got together, once I'd figured out what was going on here in Sunnydale? Despite all the damage it did to my reputation? Did I ever tell you that?”

Xander thought for a moment, trying to remember, but then he shook his head. “I don't think so.” He wondered about the seeming change of topic, but...well, Cordelia would get back to his question when she was good and ready, he knew.

“Once I figured out – once I saw it for myself, and I couldn't repress anymore...” she let her voice trail off a moment, “I'll be honest with you, it wasn't because I cared about all those other people dying...not really. I just- I just sorta figured...well, if I was trapped in the middle of a forest fire, so to speak, then the safest place to be would be amongst the people who actually had a fire hose. Sure, you were all losers and freaks to me back then; but what the hell, isn't it always the geek squad who eventually survives in the slasher movies?”

She chuckled darkly, “Xander, I don't know if we're going to live through tomorrow or not. But I think – I think we will. I mean...think about it: by now...God, half the people we went into the school system with are dead. So many people that should be graduating with us tomorrow aren't. Kids we knew, some of them from kindergarten...they're all dead. But we lived – despite the odds – long enough to find out what really happens in this hell-pit of a town.”

She swallowed. “When I first got involved with you and your friends...just staying alive, avoiding whatever I could, that was enough for me. Until we hooked up, I was happy just to survive and then finally get _out_ of this _damned_ town, once high school was over. And after we became a couple, until the Chase family lost everything, I was planning to take you with me. Kicking and screaming, if I had to! But...but now? I can't count the number of people I know – neighbors, friends, friends' parents, kids I used to passed in the halls at school – who are all dead, because of the- the vampires, and demons and all that other shit.” Cordelia's voice grew harder in tone, rising in pitch, “Nowadays? I hate them. The vampires, the demons...but even more, I hate the Mayor. I hate him for building this town, for deciding to use all of us as food after he turns into a giant snake, for robbing me of a normal life. Robbing everyone of that. All the people who have died...I _hate_ Sunnydale, Xander, because it robs you of hope. Of dreaming of a better life. A better future with the guy you love.”

She took a breath, “We're going to make it through this. We'll do our part to make sure Buffy and Faith stop the Mayor, and then...and then we'll walk away from whatever is left of high school.” She reached her hand up to the side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. “Because I am not letting either of us die, before I know we'll last.”

“We've lasted a year and a half, Cordy.” Xander pointed out. He was pretty sure that wasn't what she meant, though.

“Yeah. Much to Harmony's sheer disbelief, I'll grant you that. But we're still just teenagers, Xander. Sure, I like to think that we'll last longer than your typical high school romance – I really do love you, after all – but let's be real here. Neither of us can see the future, five, ten, fifteen years from now.” She shrugged, “Damn it, it's not exactly romantic sounding, but...it's possible that as we get older, go to college and get jobs...it won't work out between us, long term. You know there's a chance of that as well as I do.” Then she kissed him again, before Harris could say anything. “But right now, I love you, and you're mine. So get your lame ass over here!”

Xander kissed her back and obeyed orders. _What the hell. It's kinda traditional, isn't it? Going out with a bang, instead of a whimper..._

**May 21st, 1999  
Library, Sunnydale High**

The Library was, at this point, a little cramped. Piles of fertilizer and other explosive chemicals with some dynamite strapped to it could do that to any room. A detonating wire led from one of the bundles of dynamite to one of those things they used in movies to blow things up with – it looked kinda like a bicycle tire pump, but, deadly.

Xander couldn't remember what such things were called for the life of him, and he didn't feel like asking Oz or Willow.

“What kind of blast radius are we looking at?” Buffy asked the two incipient arsonists.

“Enough to take out the entire school building – well, I mean,” Willow babbled, “the building will still be here, but all, ruined and stuff, holes in the roof and most of the walls destroyed and -” She realized she was babbling and managed to cut herself off. Xander couldn't help a small smile. 

_She may babble less these days, but she still does it oh-so-well when the impulse hits her._ Willow was not the same overly-nervous and shy girl he'd known as his best friend for years, which was good for her, but it was nice to know she was still like the girl who'd been so upset by a broken crayon...

_The things the mind thinks of when you're facing down the possibility of dying..._ Xander shook his head a little and returned to the now.

“Question. Bomb's in place, but who's going to stoke it up?” Oz asked.

Buffy looked to Giles. It had to be either him or Wesley – everyone else had somewhere else they had to be for the plan to work. “You feel up to it?” 

“I suppose, yes.” Giles admitted. “It's actually fitting, in a rather grotesque fashion.”

“Look at it this way, Giles. You never really liked working here in this school under Snyder's watch.” Cordelia pointed out. “Who _hasn't_ wanted to blow up the building after leaving a job they hate? Isn't that like, the rule or something?”

“I suppose one could look at it in that manner.” Giles agreed, although his tone sounded somewhere between resigned and appalled. 

“The students all know their places, and they've been told how to hide their weapons. The last of what we need is being set up in the quad.” Xander confirmed. “I won't say I'm confident, 'cause I'm not. But I've done what I can.” He took a breath. _Yep, still scared shitless._

“Yeah. Sounds like we're all about as ready as we're gonna get.” Faith pointed out. “So, now what?”

“Now? Now we wait.” Buffy said, not liking the sound of that idea at all. “We still have an hour until the graduation ceremony starts.”

**May 21st, 1999  
Main Quad, Sunnydale High**

The senior class was all seated in the quad, waiting and listening to the music. Pomp and circumstance. Xander had a stake in hand underneath his gown, and everyone else had something – stake, baseball bat, axe, sword, knife, harpoon gun...even a few flame throwers, set up in the back. Not military grade – they were designed more for special effects, according to the student who'd supplied them – but they could do the job, one would hope.

Xander tried not to be tense. His conversation last night with the Jester was the last thing on his mind. The Mayor was sitting there with the faculty behind the podium – parents were off to the side. Willow's weren't there (of course, they were out of town), nor Oz's, or Buffy's mom. Xander's mother wasn't present, either; he and Cordelia had convinced her not to come. And...well, a few other kids had also managed to convince their mom and/or dad to not show up, but most of the parents were present to witness their child's big day.

And under normal circumstances, that would be just the way it was supposed to be.

Xander watched Snyder get up to the podium as the music ended, and adjust the mic a moment. “Congratulations to the class of 1999. You all proved more or less adequate.” _Gee thanks, Snyder._ “This is a time of celebration, so: sit still and be quiet.” Principal Troll looked over the student body, as if looking for a trouble-maker...and then he found one. He looked to the offender. “Spit out that gum!” Then, satisfied, he added “Please welcome our distinguished guest speaker, Richard Wilkins III.” _Oh, yea, we're ready to welcome him. Him and Wilkins I and II._

There was polite applause as Xander wondered just how much Snyder knew – did he know what really took place in Sunnyhell, or was he as blind as everyone else? No, no way, or at least not after what had happened with the Box of Gavrock that night in the school cafeteria. Still, did the guy know what was supposed to go down _today_? Any inkling...

Xander's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Mayor to the stage. Pulling cue cards out of his suit jacket, Wilkins started to speak. “Well. What a day this is! Special day. Today is our centennial, the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale, and I know what that means to all you kids: not a darn thing. Because today, something much more important happens: today you all graduate from high school. Today all the pain, all the work, all the excitement is finally over. And what's a hundred years of history compared to that? You know what, kids?” The Mayor paused a moment, as if to give them a chance to answer. No one did, of course. 

_I knew he liked to hear himself talk, but really?!_

Xander heard Cordelia mutter, “Do you _want_ us all to fall asleep for your snake-transformation?” from her position sitting next to him, and despite himself Xander cracked a smile, briefly squeezing her hand.

The Mayor didn't seem to care that he was being exasperating with his speech. How could he know the entire senior class was waiting for the eclipse, for him to turn into a giant snake? 

So, not knowing that, Richard Wilkins continued the speech, “For all of you it may be that there is a place in Sunnydale's history, whether you like it or not. It's been a long road getting here. For you… for Sunnydale. There has been achievement, joy, good times…and there has been grief. There's been loss. Some people who should be here today…aren't.” 

Maybe it was just what he knew, but Xander didn't find the Mayor's affectation of grief and sympathy there even remotely convincing. 

_Maybe he's not bothering to waste his time pretending anymore, so close to the end?_

Now the Mayor smiled, “But we are. Journey's end. And what is a journey? Is it just… distance traveled? Time spent?” Wilkins shook his head, “No. It's what happens on the way, the things that happen to you. At the end of the journey you're not the same. Today is about change.”

It wasn't, Xander had to admit, all that bad a speech. Nothing really new, but the guy delivered it with a certain...quality. Well, as Cordelia would say, that was hardly surprising. The man was a politician, after all. 

_If only it was coming from a guy not trying to kill us all._

“Doesn't just mean your circumstances change, it means you do. You ascend…to a higher level.” _There's a nice choice of words. Bet he's really proud of that line._ “Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing.” 

That was when Xander noticed it. A shadow falling across the Quad. _Here we go._ It's time. Xander's hand went to his stake, grip tightening around its handle. 

The Mayor, though, seemed determined to keep giving his speech – but after a few false starts, all ruined by spasms of pain, he gave up, abandoning all pretense. He smiled, “It has begun. My destiny. It's a little sooner than I expected.” He had an almost chagrined expression, “I had this whole section on civic pride.” The Mayor looked at his cue-cards, then threw them over his shoulder, “But I guess we'll just skip to the big finish!”

Suddenly – it was like watching a train wreck. Horrifying, the Mayor's body starting to distort and stretch, parts of it going a sort of purply-gray...but Xander couldn't look away, even as he knew he'd be seeing this again in his nightmares.

Then – the Mayor was gone, a snake...but no snake that you'd find at a zoo, not with those mandibles around its mouth. At first it was just – big, but then it started growing. Quickly ascending to its full glory, its terrible potential.

Olvikan.

Finally, Mayor McSnake seemed to stop growing, and then...well, all hell broke loose. 

The teachers and the other school employees were already out of their seats, running – except, oddly, for Snyder, who actually seemed to be _yelling_ at the transformed Mayor. The parents were fleeing as well. Damn it. The vampires had started coming out of the shadows and sewers.

Hopefully, most of the parents would get away. But even if they didn't, Xander knew it was too late to worry about the ignorant civilians now.

Because it was time for the most crucial part of the plan. He'd had the thought, but everyone had agreed with him. The Mayor wasn't an idiot. If he was given time to think – he might realize there was a trap in play. So...

The Mayor had to be kept from thinking too hard. He needed to be angry.

Xander tore off his own cap and gown, stake in hand, the students all around him doing the same. 

Buffy started it off, “Flame units!” 

Fire immediately licked at the sides of the Mayor's new body...the gigantic snake-demon let out an angry roar and swung down, grabbing a student from the first row.

For some – well, that was enough. Xander saw, out of the corner of his eye, a few students break formation, and try to run.

He turned slightly, and saw them run right into a row of vampires. Immediately – all three were dead, their necks broken.

_Fuck..._

It was all because they'd panicked and tried to run for it...but then again, he'd known some would. Hell, he wanted to run for his life. Olvikan had been scary enough as an image on the page, in Xander's mind.

The pure demon was at least ten times worse live and in person.

Xander heard a voice ordering the first rank to fire, and only half-realized that it was his. Barbed and steel tipped crossbow bolts flew out, connecting with the Mayor's snake-like body. Even the ones that didn't bounce off could only have stung and no more, given the pure demon's sheer bulk...

The vampires were coming closer, marching up the stairs into the Quad with a slow, determined purpose. Oz turned to Xander and yelled his name.

Xander turned towards him, only leaving his back to the pure demon for a moment, “Arm bow-men!” Harris didn't see the archers lighting oil-soaked rag cover arrows, firing them into the mass of vampires...he was too busy yelling other orders to his makeshift army, trying to make sure there was no more panicked desertions like before.

The Mayor-snake started thrashing, as more crossbow bolts flew into him, some students trying to reload, others dropping their crossbows – the harpoon gun too. The Mayor's tail connected with a group of students, sending them flying back, a few into the air.

_Shit._ Buffy saw Spike, coming from the other side of the podium. “Fall back!” She told the students around her, as Xander ordered more fire arrows released.

Pulling out Mr. Pointy, Buffy ran through the crowd of fleeing or retreating students, nimbly avoiding having to force any out of her way.

“So it's down to you and me, then, Slayer?” Spike said with a smirk as she drew closer. His hands were already clenched into fists – 

And that was when Buffy noticed he was wearing a wicked-looking pair of brass knuckles. 

The British vamp punched. Immediately, the Slayer dodged and kicked out. He caught it easily on his upper thigh, deflecting the force of the blow.

All around Buffy, the fight continued, Snyder yelling at the Mayor some more – just before he got _eaten_ for his troubles.

Not far away, Amy saw Faith get into position, standing in place to start her taunting speech, to get the Mayor to follow her through the colonnade and into the interior of the school...

Xander must have seen it too. “Fall back!” He yelled to everyone. “Hand to hand!” He turned, half-leading the charge of students into the mass of vampires – some were still engaged with the group of graduated students Angel had led.

Several of those were dead or fallen – Wesley was on the ground, collarbone cracked, trying and failing to get up.

But others – especially Angel – were still fighting. The souled vampire had taken on two, no, three of his soulless brethren... 

But more of them were turning back towards the students – only to crash into the entire senior class, running right at them. 

Xander tried to keep things organized, fighting vampires too...but the formation, such as it was, was breaking up.

“Right flank! Right flank!” He called out, trying to keep the vampires at bay.

But for Buffy and Spike, none of that mattered. They were in the fight of their lives; and William the Bloody was absolutely loving it. He hadn't enjoyed himself this much in years.

The vampire had scored a grazing blow along Buffy's head, a small cut trickling blood down the left side of the Slayer's face. Buffy had landed a few kicks and punches of her own – but nothing conclusive...

Spike finally got under her guard, tricking her with an obvious feint...his brass-knuckle clad fist connected with her stomach, and Buffy went stumbling back, one hand on her stomach. 

“Can't believe you fell for that one, Slayer!” Spike smirked and licked his lips, moving towards her a little slowly. He punched at her, and Buffy caught his fist. He punched with the other hand and Buffy let go, ducking under his attack and straightening up. “Looks like it's finally time for the hat-trick.”

Buffy saw Faith out of the corner of her eye, the rest of the students – those still alive...out of the way, fighting to escape before the bomb went off. But she had to keep her attention on Spike, as the battle resumed. Distraction meant death under these circumstances.

Faith didn't usually feel fear. Not when it came to demons, vamps and her Slaying work. Not even when Amy's mom had been trying to kill her had she really been scared.

The giant snake demon of a mayor towering overhead? 

_Fuck. Okay, he's a little scary._

But he wasn't scary enough. The senior class members were working their way out of the danger zone, they'd be free and clear of the explosion soon with any luck.

_Well, here goes nothing._

“Hey Dick! Look at me you ugly fucker!” She called out to the Mayor-snake. Turning his head for the source of the sound, Wilkins looked at her. She had his attention now. “I'm the one who killed your man Finch. I dusted your errand boy, Trick.” The Mayor snarled, an angry roar bellowing out from his enormous demonic mouth.

_And damn, that's a lot of teeth._

“You wanna do something about that?” Faith made ready to turn and run. “Then come and get me!” 

Faith turned, sprinting as fast as she could for the colonnade.

Buffy saw Faith run off, saw the Mayor snarling and...well, start chasing after her. But again, she didn't let it distract her. Captain Peroxide was proving more difficult to kill than she'd thought...

Spike punched at her again – she blocked his blow, catching the inside of his arm on the outside of hers. She spun, thrusting her stake at him, aiming for the heart.

She was pissed, but not exactly surprised to realize he'd managed to twist enough to keep the stake from his heart. Mr. Pointy sank into the meaty part of his shoulder instead. Spike yelped in pain, his hands flying back to grab at the stake and her hand; luckily, Buffy managed to get the stake out and prevent herself from being disarmed.

“Bleeding hell!” Spike cried out, staggering back a pace. “That bloody _hurt_ , you stupid bint!” He snarled, “No more games, Betty – I'm gonna get you for that!” 

He lunged at her, but Buffy dodged. She didn't dare look at her watch, but inwardly cursing, the Slayer nonetheless knew it was pretty much time to end this particular battle. _Another time, Spike, another time!_

“You might want to run now,” Buffy told him, moving back, “Unless you actually wanna be here for the big fireworks.”

Spike pulled up short on another attack, “Wot? Fireworks?”

“School go boom, toasted Mayor.” Buffy confirmed. Not giving Spike a chance to reply, Buffy turned and ran, heading for the other students who had managed to force their way through the throng of vampires and were streaming away. She didn't like the idea of leaving Spike to get away again – _again, damn it!_ – but there wasn't any other option at the moment.

Spike watched her run, and then looked back to the school, at the gaping hole in the wall where the Mayor had chased Faith into the main building. He thought about what Buffy had said, and then...

“Fuck.”

_She's not bluffing, is she? And if that snake-faced bastard actually kicks the bucket, what happens to the bloody eclipse?_ Spike immediately knew he didn't want to find out. He ran for the sewer entrance he'd come up through, diving in and pulling the grate closed behind him. Every demon for himself, and all that.

Faith could run. As a Slayer, Faith could run fast. And she did, often. Usually because she could run pretty much anywhere in town she wanted without getting tired. And it was a good workout.

But now, she was running flat out for her life. For a guy with no legs, the Mayor moved _fast._

Another snarling roar right behind her, and Faith reached the library, bursting through the double doors. The piles of explosive substances were all around her. She only spared them a glance before heading for the closest window – the transformed Mayor was almost literally right on her heels. As she jumped through the window, the Mayor-snake broke through the doors, pieces of wall plaster scattering as he somehow ground to a halt. 

Faith broke the glass, tumbling to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and across the distance between the window and Giles with the detonator.

“Now, G-man!” She yelled, diving past him to make sure she was out of the explosion radius.

Ignoring the ever-disliked nickname (he'd given up on forbidding the teenagers to use it by now, anyway), Giles pushed the plunger down and started to move away himself, as quick as he could.

In the Quad, the students heard the explosions begin – 

**_Ka-Boom!!_ **

Light. Sound. Heat. Xander grabbed Cordelia, shielding her with his body – how much damage the bomb would do if Oz and Willow got the numbers wrong, he didn't know. The students all flinched, ducked, or covered others – Oz covered Willow, for one.

Buffy watched the bomb go off, shadowing her eyes as best she could, but she still saw black spots after.

Amy stood, throat clenching, praying to all the gods and goddesses associated with magic that Faith got out – that she didn't get eaten by the Mayor...

_If she's-_

Amy didn't allow herself to finish that thought.

**May 21st, 1999  
Out Front of Sunnydale High Ruins**

“Sounds bad to say it,” Xander told Buffy as he looked at the mass of emergency vehicles around them, saw Wesley being moved into an ambulance, “but...we got off pretty cheap, considering.” Only a dozen dead students, five faculty and two parents...

Buffy was looking around as well. “Seems like we did.”

Xander could tell what she was looking for. Make that who. Angel. “He made it through the battle. I saw him – I guess...I guess he just left.”

“He said he wasn't going to say goodbye.” Buffy agreed softly. “I...I don't know if this is better or worse.”

Xander grimaced. “Wish I had an answer for you...” He turned and moved away, looking for Cordelia.

He found her not too far off, the stake still in her hand. 

“I actually dusted a vampire.” She told him as he drew close, “stake in the heart and everything.” She laughed, half grimly, half with a...sort of giggly note. “Kind of exhilarating...but...still don't see how it gets Faith so worked up.”

“Might come from being a Slayer.” Xander suggested, standing next to her, an arm around her waist, pulling her against him a little.

“Yeah, but Buffy doesn't seem to enjoy it as much as Faith does.” Cordelia pointed out, lowering the stake to rest at her side. 

“Everyone's got their own hobbies, then?” Xander suggested.

Cordelia shrugged. “If staking vamps is a hobby to her, then she really is as borderline nuts as she acts sometimes!”

Xander laughed. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed her, his arms moving around her middle. Cordelia put her arms around his neck, holding him as close to her as she was being held to him. They only came up for air after a minute of kissing.

“You were right.” Xander told her simply. “We made it.”

Cordelia smiled, “Well, _of course_ I was right. So, what do I win?”

Xander raised an eyebrow, “I didn't know it was a bet.”

Cordelia laughed, just a little giddy at their survival. “Haven't you learned by now? When it turns out that I was right and you were wrong, it's _always_ a bet.”

Xander cracked a smile – it was the little things like this... “Alright. You win. As for what you win...well, what do you want?”

Cordelia pursed her lips. “You know, I'm honestly not sure right now. I'll have to get back to you on that.”

Some distance away, Faith and Amy were walking – Faith was too wired to sit anywhere, adrenaline _still_ pumping wildly through her system.

“Fucking hell, that was just – and I'm still revved up. That run – best workout I've had!” The dark-haired Slayer gushed. 

“I can imagine.” Amy said softly. It was pretty clear to her that Faith had a wicked bad case of the “hungries and hornies,” as the dark-haired Slayer had always put it, right now. She then looked to the wreck of the High School. “So. He's really gone.”

Faith nodded, calming down a little, “He's gone. Your mom's gone. So you- you can unwind now. You don't need to be so wound up, so nervous anymore. Chillax, loosen up.”

Amy couldn't help but laugh, “I'll try.” She looked away from the ruined school. “Goodbye Sunnydale High.” She let loose a momentary chuckle, “I never really liked it anyway.” She looked over at Faith. “So what are you going to do next?”

Faith shrugged, “I dunno. See if any of the vamps that escaped are still hanging around. Or just go for any vamps I can find. You game?”

Amy shook her head tiredly, “No. I don't think so. You may be amped up enough to keep going, but I...hell, I'm exhausted. I'd envy your Slayer stamina, but I'm too tired.” She cracked a small smile.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later when all of them – minus Faith, who was hunting down any stray vamps, the hospitalized Wesley and the elsewhere Giles – were together, Willow on a small bench, Oz behind her stroking her hair. Amy stood on one end, hands in her pockets, looking at the still smouldering ruins of Sunnydale High.

“I'd call that fun, but it really wasn't.” Cordelia said after a moment. Xander was standing next to her, his arm around waist once more, and Buffy was standing in the middle of the group.

“We kicked some demon ass, though.” Willow said with a smile, “That didn't suck.”

“Hear, hear,” Xander agreed. _Killed the Mayor and...yep, we got off light doing it. Even managed to lose Snyder while we were at it. A whole generation of students saved._ Though...Xander couldn't really bring himself to cheer about Snyder's gruesome end, much as the guy had been a total ass and social enemy. No one deserved to be eaten by a giant snake like that. Or anything, really.

“You guys want to take off?” Buffy asked after a moment, “I think we've done all we can for the moment.”

“Not all amped like Faith is?” Amy asked somewhat kiddingly.

“If Faith wants to out and kill more vamps, more power to her.” Buffy told Amy. “Me? If someone could just wake me up when it's time to go to college, I'd be happy.”

Oz put his own hands in his pockets a moment. “Guys...we should take a moment to deal with this. We survived.”

“It was a hell of a battle,” Buffy murmured in agreement. Xander had to nod at that.

Oz just shook her head. “Not the battle. High school.”

They were in fact all silent for a long moment, as they pondered that. Xander realized Oz was right. Vampires, and evil mayors and apocalypses aside...Sunnydale High was High School, and that was a wringer all its own. And they'd made it out alive. Intact, and yes, even the better for the experience.

_There really is life after High School. Huh._

“We're taking a moment.” Oz repeated. Another brief second of silence passed, and then Willow stood up, and Buffy walked along side her as they turned. “And we're done.”

The rest of them turned and started walking away from what was left of Sunnydale High. 

“Anyone else thrilled that this year finally ended?” Cordelia asked as they walked off from the scene of battle. The rest of them all chorused agreement.

Yea, a little voice said at the back of Xander's mind. _This year is done. But what's Fate got planned for everyone next year? Or worse, what bad stuff's going to happen that Fate_ didn't _plan?_


	24. Teaser: Rewritten

**Disclaimer:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not mine. The Jester, the Professor, The Librarian, etc. are all mine.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta

The Iron Coin Chronicles: Season 1

By Alkeni

Teaser: Rewritten

How does one describe a phenomenon, a place, or even a being that the human mind simply cannot comprehend? How does one use words to paint a picture that cannot be processed by human senses? Cannot be grasped by the human intellect?

If a human were to observe the group of twelve-dimensional avatars of twenty-three dimensional super-space beings occupying a segment of nine-dimensional space discussing events all the way down on the third dimension, the best term they might use to describe the sliver of hyper-reality which their minds could process would be 'surreal'.

The limits of human understanding force inappropriate terms and descriptors on the events in question, but then, they are the only way to describe the events at hand.

“The events of the last mortal year in the theater infected by the Iron Coin's essence are unacceptable.” A black-robed, elderly-looking 'man' said. He, or rather it, was known as the Librarian, with an iron book with pages of gold open in front of the avatar, floating in midair. “The ripple effects are already affecting plans for time and space far beyond.”

“Granted, there are ripple effects, but the ones that spread beyond the theater in discussion have been accounted for and dealt with.” Another being replied. It appeared as a tall, statuesque woman, her blonde hair cropped short, wearing chainmail armor underneath a red stylized tabard with an ever changing white emblem. A black cape flowed down from her shoulders, and a sword was at either hip. “The only issue remains the source of the infection. We are all agreed the coin must be removed from play. Your plan failed, Librarian. That leaves only my option.”

“It only failed, Stratagem, because those two,” the Librarian pointed two other avatars present, “stopped me from eliminating the mother of the coin-bearer, or others close to him. Otherwise, it would have succeeded with minimal impact on the grand design.”

“You still haven't learned your lesson, have you? Such heavy-handed tactics will never work against that sort of mortal. I would have thought you'd have realized that by now, especially after the Jester's coin-bearer attacked you that way.” One of the two avatars the Librarian had pointed to said. It appeared to be a man of late middle age, balding a little and gray at the temples. The avatar appeared to be wearing a suit with elbow patches; he had a wooden pipe in his mouth and was seated at a desk, surrounded by what appeared to be reference books. 

The Professor, for that was what this super-being was known as to mortals, selected a book and opened it, running his finger down a list of names and entries within. “That has always been your failing, Librarian. You're too used to just writing whatever you wish done into existence.”

“And I suppose you have a better plan, Professor?”

“The mortal wielding the Iron Coin, Xander Harris, can use it only with a limited capacity – months at best, and perceiving only the next thing written in the books of others. But you can write far faster than he can foresee and change things. And the Gazer's talents can ensure that what is written over whatever the coin-bearer changes achieves our intended effect, regardless.”

“What has occurred due to that meddling mortal cannot be so easily rewritten as to conform to prior specifications. Not without...problems. The would-have-been seer, the dark slayer and her watcher – even the second witch. They are in play in ways and places they were never meant to be.” The Librarian pointed out. “I perceive no viable tactic available to simply write them where they should have been at this point.”

“This is true,” the Professor agreed, “But there are still things to come that the coin-bearer will use his gift from the Jester to observe, and attempt to prevent. If he does pre-empt them, we can rewrite the events in question, change the course of his future. There are multiple paths to one end, Librarian.”

“You propose subtlety? Against an infection of this magnitude? If the Jester is not shown the error of his ways in doing this, then we will see fragments of all five of his coins scattered across the mortal plane, in every universe and on every world!” the Stratagem argued, one hand flying to the hilt of one of her two swords.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Nonetheless, I propose against more of the same as the Librarian's plan. Your plan is essentially the same as his, only on a larger scale. The Iron Coin cannot be taken away by any of us, or our agents. Only the Jester may take it back, or else the coin-bearer must willingly surrender it. Death will only transfer stewardship of the coin to other, possibly worse mortals.” The Professor replied.

“Your tactic will only give the Jester what he seeks. 'Amusement'.” The Stratagem countered.

“ _Anything_ we do will only give the Jester amusement, Stratagem.” The Professor countered. “He is not the Hydra, a monster to be beaten back one head at a time. You cannot cut his strings and webs as you would those the Weaver, for he has none. He lives on chance, not on plans.”

“Your plan is distasteful, but nonetheless it has been proposed. It must be given the due consideration by us all.” The Librarian cut in, before the Professor and the Stratagem could resume an old argument – old, even by the standards of these beings. “What is the will of the collective of Fate?”

A moment passed, as the four avatars shared their thoughts – not only with each-other, but with the others of their kind present, but silent, and then the Librarian glared at the Professor. As he did that the Librarian noticed the Stratagem looked not just angry when looking on the Professor, but murderous, before he said, “Very well, Professor. We shall implement this plan you and the Gazer have crafted.”

“And when it fails, as it inevitably will,” The Stratagem told them all through gritted teeth, “I will take care of this problem with true finality, and deal with this mortal – the way it should have been done now.”


End file.
